Twists of Fate
by Anne Khushrenada
Summary: While Lady Une tries to go on in the wake of her shattering loss, unbeknowns to her, a minor miracle is taking place near the Cinq Kingdom. Treize Khushrenada, whom Une and many others believe dead, is in fact alive. Novelette/Romance/fluff


Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters do not   
belong to me, but to the good people of Sunrise,   
Sotsu, Bandai, and quite possibly various others,   
whose names I cannot possibly keep track of, but who,   
I'm sure, know exactly who they are.  
  
Author's note: This story occurs more or less in   
place of the episode of Gundam Wing in which Treize   
Khushrenada dies. Since I haven't seen that episode,   
and what I know of it directly contradicts a good   
portion of this story's plot, I've exercised the   
alternate universe writer's prerogative to entirely   
ignore said episode. I should probably also mention   
right about now that I have yet to see Endless Waltz,   
either, and so the elements of Endless Waltz I've   
used are more or less semi-educated guesses.  
  
* * *  
  
"Twists of Fate"   
by Christine Anderson   
aka Anne Khushrenada  
ladyune@gundamwing.net  
  
Upon the jagged plains of Earth's latest battlefield   
lay the shattered wreck of Tallgeese II. Once amongst   
the grandest Mobile Suits created by the genius that   
had seized Treize Khushrenada at the time he ascended   
to leadership of the Organization of the Zodiac, it   
was now little more than a pile of rubble marking the   
grave of its pilot.  
  
Or was it? As the last members of the medical team   
combed the battlefield in desperate, almost hopeless,   
search for any more survivors, something stirred   
within what remained of Tallgeese II. Perhaps it was   
simply the mobile suit's debris shifting and   
settling, as a wind swept across the battlefield,   
stirring the fuel spilling from the suit's busted   
tanks. As the metal fragments danced in the winds,   
two of these scraped against each other, producing a   
spark.  
  
The spark seemed to hover there for a moment that   
could have lasted forever, staring directly into the   
ice-blue eyes of the man who'd been tossed from the   
pilot's couch upon impact, restraints snapping as if   
they were only the thinnest of threads- the man whom   
the crash had twisted various metal fragments over,   
around, and in several places, through. He drew a   
gasping breath- and the spark fell, setting the fuel   
alight.  
  
He closed his eyes, daring to hope that his death   
would be quick, perhaps even painless- or if it   
wasn't, that those who loved him would never know   
that he had not died upon impact. *Please,* he   
thought in what certainly were to be his last   
moments, *Please, God, let her never know that I died   
this way. Oh, my beloved lady... why didn't I ever   
have the courage to take you away from all of this? I   
loved you, always. I hope that you will never forget   
that, Lady.*  
  
As the flames drew ever closer, engulfing the cockpit   
in a hellish light, tears traced their way down his   
cheeks, not so much from the pain- although that was   
excruciating, far beyond anything he could have   
imagined in even the worst of his nightmares. He wept   
instead for his lost love, and for himself, lost now   
as well.  
  
A wave of agony danced its way along his left leg and   
arm, while his life's blood bled away from other   
limbs, other injuries. The pain seemed everywhere all   
at once, in some places a freezing, icy chill, in   
others a white-hot fury such as that at the heart of   
a star. The pain seemed to gather at his center,   
increasing until he was certain that this pure agony   
alone would be his end. Surely the human body could   
endure only so much pain of such intensity; certainly   
it would end soon.  
  
The smell of scorched flesh filled the air, and a   
shudder went through him. One hand, balled into a   
fist, flailed about, his muscles responding   
sluggishly. *I have to get out of here,* was his only   
thought. His focus narrowed, past the pain and beyond   
sight of the fire, to this one objective. To escape,   
somehow, before the flames consumed him utterly.  
  
"Time," a woman's voice snapped out from somewhere   
close by.  
  
He raised his head, memories flooding over him,   
obscuring what vision he had, though the haze of   
smoke and fire both. *A woman's voice...? My lady,   
have you come for me? I would not want you to see me   
like this. But if you *are* here...*  
  
"Forty-five minutes and counting, Dr. Po," a second   
voice, this one male, responded.  
  
The female voice again: "Damnit. There's still one   
pilot unaccounted for."  
  
"Sally!" a third voice, female, and also familiar,   
called out. "Preventer Water! Look, there!"  
  
*Lady Une...* he thought, at last lapsing into a   
delirium that took him beyond his pain, certain that   
the second and familiar female voice was that of his   
love. *Forgive me, Lady.*  
  
"I saw a hand," the second female voice said, quick,   
insistent. "Someone's alive in there."  
  
"Impossible," said the male voice.   
  
He was desperate now, knowing that she was out there,   
unable to bear the thought of her leaving. *Stay with   
me, Lady.* He struggled, inch upon inch, to raise his   
arm, to move it about again. She had to see it, to   
see it and to come to him, while there was still   
time...  
  
"There!" exclaimed the first woman's voice. "Let's   
go, quickly now!"  
  
Running footsteps approached, though he was unable to   
hear them clearly. From somewhere came the sound of   
extinguishing foam, and then a blessed coolness. A   
coolness that was so very like the snowbanks he'd   
played in as a boy...  
  
And suddenly he was eight years old again, the world   
was different, younger, far more innocent. He was   
eight years old and running through huge drifts of   
soft, cool white snow, with his brother and sister   
beside him.  
  
He heard his brother calling his name. "I'm coming   
with you, Treize!"  
  
Laughing, he took his sister's hand and continued to   
run. "Hurry up then, we're not going to wait all   
day."  
  
He shivered with the remembered chill of the snowball   
his brother had thrown so very long ago. And with   
that memory came the realization that he was not   
eight years old, but nearing twenty-five... *Am I?*   
he thought. *Has time really passed so quickly?*  
  
Hands upon him, then, someone feeling at his neck,   
his wrists- seeking his pulse, he presumed, thinking   
that these must be the medics, these people, that   
perhaps it was not too late, perhaps they could help   
him. But he knew that he was beyond help, knew that   
he was dying, and he did not want to die alone. For   
alone he was, although the medics were near, because   
*she* was not beside him.   
  
A quiet moan escaped his lips, barely audible over   
the screech of metal. What were they doing? And where   
was she? *Une, I heard your voice. I know I heard   
your voice. Where are you now, my beloved lady?*  
  
"Dr. Po, he's still alive," the man's voice said.  
  
"My God," said the second woman, she of the familiar   
voice. "Those burns..."  
  
He whispered something that might have been a word,   
perhaps even a name. The first woman reached out to   
him then, gentle fingers forcing his eyes open. Her   
kind face gazed down upon him. "We're going to get   
you out of here. You'll be fine, soldier."  
  
He wondered if they told all battlefield casualties   
such lies. Perhaps they did, thinking that it could   
not help but ease their final moments. Yet it did not   
ease his, and he reached for the comforting embrace   
of his dreams, his visions of her. "Une..." he   
whispered. The word, this time, was clearly audible   
to his rescuers.  
  
Lucrezia Noin jerked as if she'd been stuck, but   
Sally Po, Preventer Water, shook her head, working   
various tools and cutters, carefully but quickly   
working to free the man from the wreckage of his   
suit. "Got to get him out of here," she said quietly   
as she worked. "Call the ambulance carrier, hurry!"  
  
He gasped sharply, a wordless cry of pain, as one of   
the metal fragments pinning his body into the cockpit   
was removed. Sally smoothed back the singed hair from   
his face as she worked, hope mingled with despair   
clearly visible in her expression. "I will not loose   
this one," she swore softly to herself. "I've lost   
too many today already..."  
  
He reached out, the movement of his one usable arm   
far beyond agony, the fingers of his hand searching.   
His thoughts were images now rather than words, and   
when he spoke he was not aware of it. "Lady Une... my   
love... forgive me for what I've done.. Lady! Oh,   
God... God, how it hurts..."  
  
Mercifully, he lost consciousness then, his world of   
pain and images of times long gone fading quickly   
into a deep place of nothingness- a velvet darkness   
he embraced because there was no pain there, only   
peace.  
  
* * *  
  
Sally Po and her colleagues rushed their patient to   
the operating room, Sally shouting orders and the   
team of surgeons hurrying to obey them. A nurse   
started an IV in the patient's left and lesser-  
injured arm, through which the doctors administered   
first a heavy dose of painkillers, then a general   
anesthetic.  
  
These things done, they quickly went about the   
business of saving the man's life. Members of Sally's   
team worked to remove numerous metal fragments from   
the patient's body, while others set his broken   
bones, applying a plaster cast to his shattered right   
hand. Still others tended to the extensive burns, and   
Major Sally herself stitched and sutured the man's   
numerous lacerations.  
  
The operations were extensive, and took several long,   
grueling hours for Sally and her fellow medics. When   
at last she stepped back from the operating table and   
ordered the patient be taken to recovery, it was very   
near to local midnight.  
  
Sally untied her surgical mask as she walked down the   
corridor towards recovery, already concerned about   
her patient. As unstable as he was now- hardly stable   
enough for surgery, but they'd had to take that risk   
or lose him for certain -his condition could   
deteriorate very rapidly, and she wanted to make   
certain he would survive the night before going home.   
To her surprise, she found the other woman who'd   
helped her rescue him seated in the waiting room.  
  
"How is he?" Lieutenant Noin asked.  
  
Sally sat down in a chair beside her before she   
spoke. Noin did not find this particularly   
encouraging. She knew, of course, that the man she,   
Sally, and the male medic had pulled from that   
battlefield wreckage was very badly injured. That   
being the case, Noin half expected Sally to tell her   
the man was dead. But there was something about him   
which made her believe that he would not let go so   
easily, that somehow, as serious as his injuries   
were, he might find a way to survive them.  
  
"He's still critical," Sally told her, "but he's   
holding on, and that's a good sign." The doctor shook   
her head in disbelief. "The strength that must   
require... and the pain he's in. I can't even imagine   
how he's done it. Whoever he is. I'm not sure I   
*want* to know his name. If he dies..."  
  
Noin jerked back into the chair's padded cushions, as   
if, like that moment on the battlefield, she had been   
slapped. She was vaguely aware of Sally saying   
something to her, but paid little attention to what   
it might have been. With a sudden, sick, lurching   
feeling in the pit of her stomach, she knew the   
identity of the man whom they had snatched back, if   
only temporarily, from the brink of certain death.  
  
"Sally..." Noin spoke slowly. "What this man was   
saying earlier. The name..." She shook her head. It   
would probably be near to impossible to convince her   
friend that the horrific thought she'd just had might   
actually be the truth, or very close to it. If she   
were right... Noin shook her head again. It could not   
be, it simply *could not* be.  
  
"Was it a name?" Sally asked.  
  
"Yes," Noin said. "He said 'Une'."  
  
"Could he mean Lady Une, of the Preventers?" Sally   
asked.  
  
Noin sighed deeply. When she spoke again she did so   
very, very softly. "Lady Une... was Colonel Treize's   
adjutant. Before the Preventers, she was. And who   
else would call out her name like that?"  
  
"Colonel Treize is dead, Preventer Fire." Then: "You   
reacted to something he said back there. I didn't   
notice at the time... Did you recognize him?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Noin said. "I thought it *could* be   
him, Sally. I know it sounds crazy, but..."  
  
"I don't know about crazy, but it *does* sound   
unlikely," Sally replied.  
  
Noin shuddered. "I almost hope I'm wrong. No one   
should have to endure that kind of pain and live.   
Least of all someone like Colonel Treize."  
  
"To an extent I agree. But he *is* still alive. And   
if he is who you claim him to be..."  
  
Noin shook her head. "I'm not making any claims,   
Doctor. But there's something familiar about him. Add   
that to what he was saying, and... It's possible,   
Sally. It's possible."  
  
Sally made no reply, but her expression was   
thoughtful. After Noin's departure, and before she   
herself left for the evening, Sally stopped in to   
check on her patient, who seemed to have come through   
surgery rather well under the circumstances. She   
picked up his chart and scanned its contents. Slowly,   
she nodded, and wrote orders for a retinal scan. If   
the patient's retinal prints were on file with the   
Alliance's computers, she would know his name by   
morning.  
  
* * *  
  
Treize Khushrenada came back from beyond the darkness   
in a haze of pain and fogged memory. The pain was   
beyond excruciating, beyond that of the worst he had   
suffered in his life- and for a moment he was certain   
that this mindless, endless agony would devour him in   
short order. But it did not, and he was encouraged by   
this, encouraged so that in spite of the pain he   
reached out towards true consciousness, inching   
closer to the blazing center of anguish that went   
with it. Because that, painful though it was, meant   
*life*.  
  
He opened his eyes slowly, cautiously, expecting   
great pain from that simple movement alone, and was   
rather relieved when he did not feel it. The muscles   
in and around his eyes seemed sore, true, but that   
was the worst of it, at least in that area.  
  
Thus encouraged, he proceeded cautiously to take   
stock of the rest of his body, cataloging every hurt,   
every ache- broken bones and deep lacerations for the   
most part, although the pain that blazed along his   
left leg and up his left arm was a thing he could not   
readily identify. *What has happened to me?* he   
wondered. He knew, for this much was obvious, that he   
was seriously injured, but found he could not   
remember how he had acquired those injuries.  
  
His memories were strangely fuzzy, as if seen through   
a frosted glass. He recalled the battle, or most of   
it... the crash, and the awful, piercing agony that   
followed it...  
  
Treize struggled to speak, and found that he could   
not. His throat felt scraped, raw.  
  
The female medic he recalled from the battlefield   
stepped into the room. "Don't try to talk. You've   
been very badly hurt. Among other things, there is a   
tube in your throat to help you breathe."  
  
His expression must have clearly shown his shock, for   
she said, "We should be able to remove the tube soon.   
Your lungs were slightly damaged by smoke inhalation,   
and I wanted to make sure no permanent harm was   
done."  
  
*Smoke inhalation?* he thought. *Was I- was I burned?   
I need to know what has happened to me.* Bracing   
himself for what he knew was to come, he focused upon   
moving his hands, and eventually he was able to   
produce a clumsy pantomime of writing. His right   
hand, a horrid mass of shattered pain, screamed in   
protest as he tried to move it, but the left seemed   
to do well enough to communicate.  
  
The medic nodded, turning to retrieve a yellow legal   
pad and a pen from the table at her side.   
  
He took the pen in his left hand, amazed at how much   
such a small appendage could ache. In trembling,   
awkward letters- for he was right-handed, not left,   
and his left hand, while aching horribly, was almost   
mobile -he wrote, "where?"  
  
"A medical facility near the Cinq Kingdom- jut inside   
its borders, actually, but a few hundred kilometers   
from the capital."  
  
Again he picked up the pen- not having noticed that   
he'd dropped it, but hardly aware of that even so.   
"how long?" he scrawled.  
  
"Just under a day. We've kept you sedated, for the   
most part. I thought that was best. Are you in pain   
now?" He started to write again, but she shook her   
head. "Blink once for yes, twice for no."  
  
He blinked once.  
  
"Bad?" she asked, something in her tone of voice   
conveying the fact that she already knew the answer.  
  
One blink.  
  
The medic nodded, reaching behind her again to   
retrieve a syringe, the contents of which she   
injected into his IV.  
  
"You should start to feel better in a few moments."  
  
He wrote, "thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." She paused, leafing through the   
pages of what Treize presumed to be his chart. "My   
name is Sally Po. I'm a medic with the Preventers. We   
didn't find any ID on you, so I ran your retinal   
prints through the computers."  
  
He winced, or tried to, at the least. *She didn't   
recognize me. But how-? Oh, dear God...*  
  
Sally was still turning pages in the chart. "This   
can't be right..."  
  
In halting script, each letter paining him not only   
physically but mentally as well, he printed, "I am   
Treize Khushrenada." The lettering, while shaky, was   
perfectly legible. As best he could, he extended his   
arm, holding out the pad of paper towards the medic.  
  
Immediately after reading what he had written, Dr. Po   
took the pad and pen from him, replacing them with a   
small palmtop computer. "Try this, sir. It may be   
easier for you. I'm sorry I didn't-"  
  
He blinked twice, meaning no, intending to interrupt   
her and stop the flood of apologies before they went   
any farther, and she, rather used to the subtleties   
of signals used by those as severely injured as   
Treize, fell silent.   
  
His fingers brushed across the keys, and hesitantly   
he tapped out with the fingers of his left hand:  
  
*will I live?*  
  
"Colonel Treize, I..."  
  
He blinked twice, quickly. A spark of anger might   
have been visible in those blue eyes. Meaning no   
again, meaning don't lie to me.  
  
"I really cannot say, sir."  
  
Treize tapped at the keyboard once again:  
  
*that bad*  
  
"Bad enough," Sally replied.  
  
*truth*, she read upon the screen.  
  
"Frankly, Colonel Treize, I am amazed you survived   
the fire."  
  
*fire. I remember [...] flames [...] burning.* In the   
long pauses between his words, as he struggled again   
through that haze of memory, the palmtop marked his   
pauses with bracketed ellipses.  
  
Sally moved as if to take the palmtop from him. Two   
blinks, again. "Try not to think about that, sir."  
  
But he did think of it, would think of it, and little   
else, now and in the days to come. His fingers moved   
over the keys again. *fire. burns?*  
  
The doctor nodded, slowly. "Yes, sir."  
  
His hand, trembling now, returned to the keys once   
again. *doctor. I am asking you to level with me.   
asking you to tell me the truth.*  
  
Sally nodded again. "As you wish, sir. Your Mobile   
Suit, Tallgeese II, was shot down in battle roughly   
twenty-four hours ago- and you might be interested to   
know it is a good sign that you're awake and alert so   
soon after the accident."  
  
*I do believe there is a difference, doctor, between   
battles and accidents. please never speak of it again   
in those terms.*  
  
Each word, each letter, pained him to produce, but he   
pushed himself onward despite the pain, feeling an   
overwhelming need to communicate in complete   
sentences.  
  
"As you wish, sir," the doctor said.  
  
*go on,* he typed out, slowly, and she did so, albeit   
reluctantly.  
  
"Your restraints didn't hold, and you were tossed   
around the cockpit before the suit crash-landed. When   
the suit hit, it hit on its side and rolled. Metal   
fragments broke off and pinned you in place in the   
cockpit. Colonel, you would have bled to death if we   
had gotten to you any later."  
  
*damned chutes didn't open,* he mused to himself via   
the keypad. *if they had...*  
  
"If the chutes had opened, you would probably have   
walked away with maybe a few bumps and bruises. The   
suit would probably still be in one piece, too."  
  
He blinked once, in place of a nod. Then: *tell me   
about the fire*  
  
"There's not much to tell, sir. The suit's fuel tanks   
burst on impact, a spark ignited the fuel."  
  
Another single blink. *and the burns.*  
  
"Mostly second-degree, but some third. You may loose   
your left leg from the knee down, and possibly your   
right hand- the hand because you shattered nearly   
last every bone in it."  
  
One blink, subdued.  
  
*is that all?*  
  
"Isn't it enough?" Sally asked.  
  
Two blinks. *no.* Then: *after the fire. voices,   
yours, a man's, another. one I recognized.*  
  
"That would've been Preventer Fire, I expect.   
Lucrezia Noin, sir."  
  
One blink. *Noin. yes. I had thought [...] no. think   
nothing of it.*  
  
"You called a name, sir... Lady Une? We know of her,   
of course, but Noin told me she was your adjutant."  
  
*yes.*  
  
"I'm certain I could reach her-"  
  
Two blinks, both of them quick. Tears floated   
directly beneath them, but he seemed not to notice.   
*no* And a dull, scratchy croak issued from his   
throat. *No,* he thought. *No... She already thinks   
me dead. And I may be still. Une, I will spare you   
the pain of my departing this Earth for a second   
time. Forgive me, Lady, I must.*  
  
"Shh, sir," Sally murmured, mopping the sweat from   
his brow. "If that's really what you want."  
  
One blink, and with it a tear drifted down his cheek.  
  
*I [...] don't want her to see me [...] like this.*  
  
The medic nodded. "I understand. Hurting less, now?"  
  
*yes, thank you.*  
  
"Can I get you anything?"  
  
*no, thank you.*  
  
Sally wheeled the small table beside the bed. "Can   
you reach this?"  
  
In answer he attempted to do so, and his fingertips   
just brushed the table. She brought it closer.   
"Better?"  
  
*yes.*  
  
He laid the palmtop upon the table, and the medic   
stepped back. "Try and get some rest, now. If you   
need anything, hit the 'enter' key on the palmtop."  
  
Treize blinked once. His eyelids had already   
fluttered closed by the time she'd left the room.  
  
* * *  
  
In what had once been the home of His Excellency   
Treize Khushrenada, Lady Une paced, unable to keep   
herself still, and yet unable to decide what course   
of action to take. Strangely, she found it impossible   
to leave this place, even for all the pain it brought   
her. For a space without even the merest echoes of   
Treize's presence simply scraped at the jagged edge   
of her shattered heart, tore open the not even half-  
healed wound left by his passing. In those spaces, he   
was truly gone. Here, something of him remained, and   
if it pained her, it was still preferable to the   
alternative.  
  
After Treize's death, after she had given the order   
to surrender, Une had fled back to Earth, intending   
to return to the apartment she hadn't set foot in in   
over six months, thinking, perhaps, to loose herself   
in grief behind those walls. But she discovered, to   
her dulled shock, that she had no apartment to go   
back to, that shortly after the surrender, someone   
had set fire to it. The pair of students who lived   
across the hall had greeted her with tears and   
embraces, and had offered condolences and sympathy   
for the loss of her home, her things. Une had wanted   
to laugh at that- a rich, hysterical laugh which   
might have gone on forever. For they did not   
understand, when she'd thrown her glasses against the   
far wall and then burst into tears, that it was not   
the apartment fire that so enraged and tormented her,   
but that last horrible battle that had taken the life   
of the one she loved.  
  
Foolishly, her two well-meaning neighbors had braved   
the flames to rescue her personal affects- what few   
of them there were. She had berated them for their   
recklessness, their stupidity, but truly she had been   
grateful. She had only a small number of personal   
possessions in the apartment, because in the past few   
years she'd hardly lived there, but those she did   
keep there were near to priceless to her, many of   
them far too personal for her to carry with her or   
keep where Treize might have seen them.  
  
Une had wept again over the box the two had pressed   
into her arms, wept over the framed photographs, the   
dried roses that had once been red, the books and   
letters- and the dress, a beautiful thing of   
shimmering blue silk Treize had given her upon her   
last birthday, when he had taken her out for dinner   
and dancing, the dress she had worn as he kissed her   
beneath the stars, and begged her to stay with him   
that night.  
  
She'd reached out trembling fingers to touch the   
silk. "Thank you," she had said at last, before   
turning and walking away, her box clutched tightly in   
her arms. She had known then, though they had not,   
that she would never return there. She had no   
destination in mind when she left the apartment   
building, but she'd known she could not ever go back.  
  
For what felt like hours she drifted, seemingly   
aimless, along city streets lightly trafficked at   
that late hour. Because for so many years, her life,   
such as it had been, had revolved around Treize, had   
been lived for him, at his side or apart from him,   
but always by his command, without him, without his   
presence, his inner fire and inspirations to guide   
her, she did not know what to do, where to turn or   
even where to go.  
  
She had respected the commander within Treize from   
the moment she first met him, the noble officer whose   
presence could command the respect and the loyalty of   
those who served him in very short order. And to this   
day she respected the commander still- but it was the   
man she had come to love, to her own shock and   
surprise- and to his amazement, his wonder. How long   
she might have kept her silence on that matter, she   
did not know. Had he not looked into her eyes and   
seen the truth that day so long ago-   
  
Une shook her head, furiously. No. She would not   
think of it, could not bear to think of it. The   
memory of his touch, or of his voice calling her   
name... these were things she would not allow herself   
to dwell upon. She could not loose herself into grief   
at this moment- not when there was so much yet   
undone.   
  
And yet... and yet, while she could stop the flood of   
memories, she found it impossible to stop the tears.   
As they streamed down her cheeks, her glasses fogged,   
and she set them aside with a sigh. Almost as if   
moving by rote, as she wept her hands moved seemingly   
of their own volition, to take down her hair. She   
brushed her fingers through the strands to undo them   
from their braids, shivering as she recalled Treize's   
fingers running through her hair...  
  
"Lady..." She trembled. That voice- that voice was a   
thing of the past, a rich, intoxicating sound she   
knew beyond doubt she would never hear again.  
  
And yet across space and time she heard her own   
reply, felt her own hands move across his face as she   
drew him down to kiss her. "Une," she corrected   
softly in the instant before their lips touched.  
  
In the haunted silence of the room, Une fell to her   
knees and wept bitterly. "Treize," she whispered   
through her tears. "Treize... why?"  
  
But in a way, she knew why. Because he had been a   
soldier, had been born a soldier, had lived and died   
as one. Because he had always told her that he was   
destined to die a soldier's death, upon some dirtside   
battlefield, or somewhere above, in a battle that   
raged across the stars. It had been her cruel fate,   
as it had been that of thousands of men and women   
alike before her, to love a soldier, to loose her   
heart to him, and to know that while he might be   
gone, her heart was lost and she'd never get it back.  
  
But Une, too, was a soldier- although she knew there   
were those who did not consider her one. As a   
soldier, she knew her duty just as Treize had known   
his- knew both what it had been, and what it now was.   
And the two things were not, in fact, so very   
different. Before his death, her duty had been to   
Treize- to aid and to serve him, to follow his orders   
and watch his back, and to keep him safe as any   
soldier could be in times of war.  
  
And now, after his death, her duty was still, and   
always would be, to him. It had fallen to her to take   
what Treize had left her and somehow find a way to   
form it into the realization of his dreams. Had   
fallen to her because none living understood Treize   
as she did. And while she might have believed that   
she had failed Treize because she'd only been able to   
stand by and watch him die, she was determined that   
she would not fail him again.  
  
Few truly realized how deeply his death had effected   
her. As long as anyone was there to see, she managed   
to put up a false front- the strong, confident   
Colonel Une, doing what had to be done in memory of a   
man she had both admired and greatly respected- a   
Colonel Une who knew she could never replace Treize,   
but was determined to succeed him as best she could.   
But when they were gone... When they were gone,   
Colonel Une split down the middle and shattered, and   
from the fragments of the Colonel's facade emerged   
Lady Une- weary, grieving, heartbroken. Lady Une,   
unlike her alter ego, was tired of fighting, tired of   
the battles that never seemed to end.   
  
Tired, too, of watching them cut short the lives of   
gifted, brilliant, dedicated and honorable people,   
people who should have been able to grow old in a   
time of peace. People like Treize Khushrenada.  
  
*Treize,* she thought now, alone with her tears and   
her sorrows, *I know that more than anything, you   
wanted peace. I will give you that, somehow. But oh,   
Treize, how I will miss you...*   
  
* * *  
  
Treize woke again to the soft blue light of morning-   
to that light, and a horrible, searing pain. He   
gritted his teeth against it, the fingers of his left   
hand brushing clumsily at the bedcovers, trying to   
toss them aside. He found himself lying very still-   
for any motion at all hurt a great deal -and waiting.   
Waiting to die, or waiting to heal. Sometime between   
his last conscious moments and these, the tubes had   
been pulled. Or, most of them, anyway.  
  
"Good morning," Sally said as she stepped into his   
room. "Feeling better? Good. I'd like to get you up   
and out of bed today."  
  
Treize closed his eyes, as if by not looking at her,   
he could will her away. "No."  
  
"I'm sorry, did I phrase that as a request?" She   
moved to the bedside, snapped the sheet down to the   
foot of the bed with one quick motion. "You're not   
home free, Colonel, and until you walk out of here   
under your own power, you'll do as I tell you."  
  
Treize opened his eyes then, slowly. "You're very   
good, Doctor. Unfortunately for you, I have faced and   
resisted better. I've begun to think that you and   
yours did me rather a disservice pulling this   
shattered wreck of a body from Tallgeese II."  
  
"Still having those nightmares?" the medic asked,   
finally resigned to the fact that she would not get   
this particular patient up and about until he was   
good and ready to be up and about.  
  
He bit back a sharp reply, knowing that he never   
should have told her about the nightmares in the   
first place. But he'd woken terrified, vulnerable, in   
the dark. And he had thought- she'd already seen him   
at his weakest, what could it hurt now? But he'd been   
wrong, it had hurt in more ways than he could count.   
  
Mostly it had hurt because she was not, could never   
be, his Une. She would not know, as Une did, when to   
talk and when to fall silent, when to ask questions   
and when to change the subject. And it was Une he   
wanted beside him- her and only her.  
  
Treize still cried out for her in his sleep- they'd   
told him that. Told him that, and then asked him   
again if he wanted to see her. And the usually soft-  
spoken Treize had flown into a rage, hurling that   
damned palmtop computer at Sally and her nurses,   
banishing them from his presence. They had, he   
supposed, taken that for a 'no', and rightly so.  
  
He had not wept until the last of them was gone.  
  
"Yes," he said simply, and left it at that. Then:   
"God, how it hurts..."  
  
"Let me get you something," she said, disappearing   
out the door almost before the last word was spoken.  
  
*What have I to live for?* he wondered after she was   
gone, not for the first time since awakening here.   
His dreams had been the dreams of a fool. His best   
friend had betrayed him, and he could not even hate   
the man for it, although Treize still felt he had   
done the right things, made the right choices, as   
painful as those choices had been, and it was   
Milliardo who had been wrong. And his love, his dear,   
beloved Lady Une, already believed him several days   
dead. She would weep for him, he knew that, but so   
too did he know that she was strong. She would go on,   
and perhaps she would manage to succeed where he had   
failed. In any case he had left her means enough to   
try.  
  
His hopes were for her, now, rather than himself- for   
her and the others she would be able to gather to her   
with what he had left her- with his posthumous nod of   
approval cast upon her. Perhaps she could not change   
the world, or save it- neither of them believing   
anymore that that was possible- but with luck, she   
would manage to do some good, somewhere. For him it   
would be enough. For her, he could only hope that   
she'd be able to accept something perhaps less than   
perfection- for she had always been a perfectionist,   
a quality he both admired and found to be very   
irritating.   
  
"I am sorry I've let you down, my love," he   
whispered. "But I know that you will not let *me*   
down. That is why I chose you."   
  
Treize had done a bit of research upon the palmtop   
before tossing the small computer at his doctor the   
other day, and he had learned something interesting.   
Namely, that the morphine and other drugs they were   
giving him, taken in sufficient doses, could and   
often did prove fatal. And he, Treize Khushrenada,   
who knew he should have died upon that battlefield   
with the countless others- he desperately needed that   
number, but the computer didn't seem to have it, or   
at least he couldn't get to it, and he'd finally   
given up- was now determined that he would die, in   
his own time.  
  
And the time he had chosen was now. It might take   
several doses more of one thing or another, but soon   
enough it would be done, and then at last the pain,   
the anguish, the sleepless nights haunted by dreams   
of the hundreds of thousands who had died for him,   
because of him- all of it would end.  
  
At length Sally returned, and he held himself tense   
and still as she pumped the contents of the syringe   
through the IV.  
  
"Better?" she asked several long moments later.  
  
"No."  
  
Sally sighed. "I really don't want to increase the   
dosage much more than this, but I'll do what I can."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
As soon as Sally's shift ended, he rang for her   
relief, counting on the fact that Sally, nearly on   
her way out the door when she'd given the second dose   
of painkillers, hadn't written it down in his chart.   
He may or may not have been right about that, but the   
new doctor administered another dose upon request. As   
did the one after him, and the one after him- every   
hour on the hour, or thereabouts. And in this manner   
Treize went through the entire day and night shifts   
of this division of the medical facility, exchanging   
short greetings with each of them.  
  
As he went through his routine with each of the   
newcomers, he found himself filing away names and   
faces- as if any of that mattered. Soon enough he   
would be dead, and then it would make no difference   
who they were or which shifts they worked. Still,   
matching names to faces and vice versa helped to pass   
the time.  
  
But as the days passed and his condition grew no   
worse, Treize was forced to face the fact that his   
suicide attempt might have failed. And he found   
himself simply too exhausted to formulate and execute   
a second plan.   
  
This being the case, he found himself with an   
abundance of time, and very little to do other than   
rest, and think. At Dr. Po's request, he did a good   
bit of resting, but also quite a bit of thinking. And   
he found at least one of the conclusions he had   
reached very disturbing indeed.  
  
Oddly enough, none of the hospital staff seemed to   
have even the slightest flash of recognition upon   
seeing him. They all called him "sir" or "colonel";   
obviously they were aware of his rank, or part of it,   
but they did not seem to have any real idea of who he   
was. He was not a terribly vane man, but he was   
certain that his picture had appeared numerous   
places, certainly often enough for at least some of   
them to be able to recognize him. Curious as to why   
they did not, he talked one of the nurses into   
bringing a mirror and holding it where he could see   
his own face.  
  
It took him several very long seconds to realize the   
horrible cry splitting the air was his, that it was   
emerging from the shattered, bruised, and lacerated   
face in his mirror. It could not be him- could not   
be! But he moved his left hand, painfully, to touch   
his face- and a horridly disfigured, gauze-wrapped   
hand caressed the nightmare face in the mirror.  
  
He knocked the mirror from the nurse's hands before   
he was aware he'd done it, and then he was holding   
his face with burned left hand and shattered right,   
tears streaming down his face. "No," he cried, again   
and again.  
  
Treize was vaguely aware of the nurse's cry of   
surprise, of someone else yelling for the doctor, who   
approached quickly and with another needle full of   
something. He murmured soothing words until the   
sedatives kicked in, sweeping Treize oncemore into   
blissful unconsciousness.  
  
* * *  
  
Treize was drifting, weightless, in a strange sea of   
light and darkness. There was neither sight nor   
sound, and yet there was the light, and the darkness.   
He felt little- not the pain, nor the lack of it -and   
cared even less. Soon, now. He was certain of that.   
Soon. He had thought he'd failed, but knew now that   
he'd needed only to be more patient.  
  
Lying still and motionless upon the bed, Treize's   
lips moved, though no one was there to hear. "Une..."  
  
At some point Sally returned, to find her patient   
sleeping the sleep of the damned, tossing and   
turning, gasping in pain even in his dreams. She   
sighed, shook her head, and doubled his morphine   
dosage. Her face was drawn and pale when she   
administered the drug.  
  
He was suddenly eerily still- and Sally knew that   
something was horribly, horribly wrong. She snatched   
up his chart and flipped pages quickly. "God, oh   
God," she muttered as she scanned the documents.   
"Damn you," she swore at Treize Khushrenada, and then   
she was off, towards the door and already shouting,   
beginning the mad race to save his life- once again.  
  
It was perfectly clear, at least to Sally, what he   
had done, and she could have kicked herself for not   
having seen it coming- for not even really   
considering the possibility. There is a certain   
depression that usually accompanies severe injuries,   
particularly trauma and burns such as Treize had   
suffered. Under normal circumstances that depression   
might be very mild, but when one is under the   
physical and mental strain that pain and slow healing   
can bring about, the depressive thoughts and mindset   
are much harder to resist. No matter how strong the   
individual, for strength has little baring in these   
matters.  
  
Sally hadn't given this much thought where this   
particular patient was concerned because the front   
he'd projected had been so very convincing. And she   
was certain now that it had been her own gullible   
nature as much as his own depression, which had   
brought things to this point. The question, though,   
was whether or not her oversight had killed him, or   
would.  
  
Treize came to with bright lights and a glaring   
whiteness all around him, with a sea of faces   
hovering over him. He heard snatches of their   
conversation but did not entirely comprehend them.  
  
"...heart rate's still accelerating."   
  
"...respiration- damn! He's not breathing!"  
  
To Treize these words seemed trivial. He was alright,   
he was going to be fine, he was-  
  
Dying.  
  
The realization came quickly, hitting him with all   
the force of Tallgeese II's impact upon the Earth...   
and in that instant he realized his mistake, realized   
that the decision he'd thought so logical, so   
necessary, *was* a mistake. He had not been dying,   
not for certain, but had he now condemned himself to   
that fate?   
  
*No!* he thought, struggling, as if swimming upstream   
against a great current, to bring himself back from   
this ledge. *No...* He had been so certain that it   
was the inevitable end he would reach no matter   
what... but if it wasn't, if he had had a chance and   
had thrown it away...   
  
"...breathe, damn you..."   
  
"He's gone, Doctor."  
  
"No. I'm not giving up on him yet!"  
  
"Wait- pulse is coming back, weak but getting   
stronger."  
  
"He's breathing... come on, come on..."  
  
"We did it," someone said.  
  
Sally shook her head. "This one is a fighter, that's   
why he's still here. Because *he* decided he wanted   
to live."  
  
She snagged a bottle of some dark liquid from the   
nearby shelf, and poured a liberal dose of it into a   
Styrofoam cup. "I want you to drink this. It's going   
to taste terrible, and it's going to make you vomit."  
  
"And why on Earth," Treize asked weakly, "do I want   
to do that?"  
  
"Because." Sally leaned over her patient, seeming   
more than slightly annoyed. "More than two-thirds of   
the drugs my associates gave you were administered by   
mouth. We need to get those out of your system before   
they kill you. And," she added none too kindly, "it's   
this or the stomach pump."  
  
Treize shuddered and held out his hand for the cup.   
Sally shook her head. "No. We need to get you sitting   
up first, sir."  
  
"Very well." She and the nurses moved to help him,   
but he waved them off with his good arm. Using the   
burned arm alone, he pushed himself up into a less   
than comfortable sitting position. "I don't suppose I   
could have something for this pain?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Sally said. "I'll give you something, as   
soon as you-"  
  
"I get the picture, thank you." Treize held out his   
hand for the cup, but was unable to grasp it in his   
bandaged hand. He tried to keep the disappointment   
from his face, but it was close to impossible. One of   
the nurses held the cup to his lips as he drank. When   
he had finished, she quickly replaced the cup with a   
basin.  
  
Several very long and awful moments later, it was   
done. Treize lay back against his pillows, exhausted.   
  
Sally held a pair of pills out to him. "Would you   
like these?"  
  
"Very much, yes."  
  
"Then swear to me you won't try anything as foolish   
as that ever again."   
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"You heard me, Colonel. Noin, Dr. Miller, and I   
risked our lives to save yours. If you want to throw   
that away it's your own business- but you won't do it   
here or on my watch. Understand?"  
  
Treize nodded. "Very well, Doctor. I swear I will not   
do that again. Now, about those pills..."  
  
* * *  
  
"Lady Une?"  
  
Une keyed the intercom in Treize's office- her   
office, now, she supposed. "Yes?" she asked her aid,   
whose existence she still found to be rather strange.   
She had served Treize for so many years that she had   
never thought of anyone serving her in this manner.   
And she already knew that this young woman would   
never have the sort of connection she'd shared with   
Treize. They did not know each other even nearly well   
enough, and they never would. They had in common all   
that they needed to- the shared goals of Une's   
Preventers.  
  
"Preventer Wind is here, ma'am."  
  
"Excellent," Une said. "Send him in, please."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
A moment later, the man who these days called himself   
Wind stepped through the door. Une looked him over   
and nodded gravely in greeting. "Lady Une," he said   
at length. "I was told about Treize..."  
  
She waved him into silence, Treize's death being the   
last thing she wanted to discuss, even with the man   
who had once been his closest friend. "Preventer   
Wind."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"How goes the Cinq Kingdom operation?"  
  
"We've just about finished up there. Relena seems to   
have things well enough in hand."  
  
"I am glad to hear that." She lifted a file folder   
from the table beside her and opened it, glancing   
down at the pages it contained. Not looking at him,   
she said, "I have a new assignment for you,   
Milliardo."  
  
He winced at the mention of the name to which he had   
been born. "Lady Une-"  
  
She did look up then, something raw and painful   
showing in her eyes, before she took a moment to   
compose herself, and then it was gone. "You're going   
to Lake Victoria."  
  
"I certainly am not," he said quietly but firmly.  
  
Something in Une's eyes glimmered as lightening on a   
summer night would, and it struck him then that she   
resembled Treize in one of his rare but rather   
stellar furies. Perhaps it had something to do with   
the amount of time she'd spent in Treize's company...   
but in any case he realized that he did not want to   
cross her, as he would not have wanted to cross   
Treize in one of those moods.  
  
"You are going," Une said flatly. "And you will also   
be getting a new partner."  
  
"I prefer to work alone."  
  
Une ignored this last statement, dropping the folder   
into his startled hands. "We call her Fire. But she,   
too, has another name. One I think you might   
recognize."  
  
He opened the file, glancing briefly at a photograph   
clipped to the file jacket; a photograph of the woman   
whom the Preventers called Fire. "No. Lady Une, I   
can't-"  
  
"You can," she said, stepping closer to him. "You   
can, and you will."  
  
"Lady Une, she-"  
  
"-wants more than anything in the universe to see you   
again, Milliardo. I have kept your secret long   
enough. You've been to Cinq, you've done what you   
needed to for your sister, and now you will do what   
*I* need you to do- and yes, what Noin needs, too."  
  
"I can't," he said again.  
  
Une removed her glasses and sighed. "You have a   
chance I would kill for, do you realize that?" she   
asked very, very softly. The weight of that   
statement, it not being spoken in her military   
persona, which no longer quite existed as it once   
had, was not lost on him. "No one, nothing in all the   
world, can give Treize back to me. I wish that   
someone could. But what I can do, and what I *will*   
do, is give you back to Lucrezia, and her back to   
you. You've both waited long enough. Do you   
understand that, Wind?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. And I- I am so very sorry..."  
  
Une shook her head, hardly able to hold back her   
tears now. Unable to bear his sympathy, all she could   
do was see him gone before her mask shattered   
entirely.   
  
"Go to her, Milliardo. Go to her, and be thankful for   
what you have."  
  
* * *  
  
Treize was watching the sunset through his hospital   
room window, when he heard the door click open and   
then close again.  
  
"Sir?" Sally's voice called.  
  
"Yes, Doctor."  
  
"Do you need anything, sir?"  
  
"No," he said. Then, as she started to turn to go, he   
called after her, "Wait. I'd like you to make a call   
for me."  
  
"Are you certain, sir?"  
  
"I have never been more certain of anything in my   
life, Doctor. Call her."  
  
When he turned his head to look at her, he saw that   
she had a pen poised over a pad of paper. He spoke   
the contact number from memory, watched her write it   
down, and then asked her to read it back to him. She   
did so, and he nodded, giving her a second number-   
that of his family's mansion, on the chance that   
she'd gone there -before sending her out to make the   
call.  
  
After she had gone, Treize lay very still. *Have I   
done the right thing?* he wondered. *Or is it that   
I've been doing all of the wrong things, and this is   
perhaps the only right one? So help me, I don't know.   
But what I do know is that I am not going to die   
today, and that I need to see her. I *must* see   
her...*  
  
Shortly thereafter, he drifted off to sleep, but it   
was a sleep untroubled by frightening dreams or   
nightmares.  
  
* * *  
  
It was just after sunset on the tenth day following   
Treize's death when Lady Une received the call. She   
found it very unusual, and wondered why it was that   
Sally Po looked so strange- as if she were both   
excited and nervous about something.  
  
Even more odd was Sally's request, that Une herself   
journey to the Cinq facility. Sally would give no   
reason for the request, and though she was extremely   
busy, and would be for the days and weeks to come,   
Une felt obligated to go. Sally had asked her for so   
little, after all, and Une felt she owed the doctor   
this strange bit of trust. She promised that she   
would be there at once. Sally nodded and saluted her   
before ending the transmission.  
  
* * *  
  
"I made the call," Sally said quietly to the still-  
sleeping Treize. "I was able to reach her at the   
second number. She's coming."  
  
His eyes still closed in sleep, Treize smiled.  
  
* * *  
  
Moving mostly upon instinct, as she was still deeply   
in shock over Treize's death, Lady Une shed her   
glasses, her Preventers uniform, and the clasp   
holding back her hair. She was going, as much because   
Sally had asked her as because she felt strangely   
*compelled* to go.  
  
*What could be so important in Cinq?* she wondered as   
she dressed, simply, in black jeans and a navy blue   
blouse. She hardly knew the answer to that, but she   
knew that she was going, that she *had* to go, and   
that nothing could be allowed to stand in her way.   
Une shook her head as she searched for her shoes. "I   
need a break, isn't that reason enough?" she asked   
herself.  
  
In place of the heels that went with her Preventers   
uniform, or the boots that had gone with her OZ one,   
she tied on a pair of tennis shoes. She packed a   
small bag; a few changes of clothes, her Preventers   
jacket, and, almost as an afterthought, her glasses.   
She ran a brush quickly through her hair, then tossed   
it into the bag and closed it. She took her car keys   
from the bureau, and then was ready to go.  
  
Une stepped out of her room and eased the door shut   
behind her. It had not been an easy decision to   
return to Treize's home, a place so filled with   
memories- but she was certain that that decision was   
the right one. In any case it was hers, now, this   
place- a shocking fact which Treize's lawyers had   
relayed to her when at last they caught up with her.   
Even more shocking had been the full contents of his   
will, which left nearly everything he had, save a   
small fund for Dorothy's continued education, (and   
save also a certain-case provision with very specific   
instructions for its use) to her.   
  
To her, he had left it all. This house- actually,   
mansion might better suit -with its extensive   
grounds, its paths weaving through gardens, circling   
the lake, and twisting through the large expanse of   
wilderness preserve, this place filled with gold and   
crystal and silk curtains, all the finer things of a   
life which Lady Une had truly only come to know after   
her fateful meeting with Treize.  
  
She'd kept a room there for years, but had rarely   
even seen it, as their duties carried them to all   
corners of the world and, more than once, into the   
vast reaches of space. Still, for all that she'd been   
long absent from this place, it was home, much as   
anything could be these days. Her first few steps   
back onto the estate's grounds had been painful, but   
soon enough she'd worked up the courage to walk along   
each of the halls and into each of the rooms save   
one, and, feeling herself the lingering presence of   
Treize around her, had been slightly comforted by   
that.   
  
Une had thought to at the least linger for a time in   
Treize's own room, for surely that presence which   
enveloped her with its warmth must be strongest   
there, but as she placed her hand, trembling, upon   
the doorknob, she knew that she could not, that she   
could not face that room with its overwhelming   
memories, including the memory of the birthday he had   
been able to turn into an evening of beauty and magic   
and even passion...  
  
But no. Une shook her head as she strode quickly down   
the corridor. She would not think of Treize- she had   
told herself this time and again, despite the fact   
that it was incredibly difficult, if not impossible,   
not to think of him there, in what had once been his   
home and was now hers.  
  
It was all hers, now, which was surprise enough- but   
what she found equally amazing was the house staff,   
who treated her as if she were their own much revered   
daughter, as they had viewed Treize as their much   
revered son. A perfect example of this was Treize's   
butler, an elderly gentleman named Marcus, who was   
waiting for her upon the porch, as if he'd known she   
would be going out. How he had such an accurate sense   
for such things, she had yet to determine.  
  
"Good evening, my lady," Marcus said.  
  
"Good evening," Une said. "Marcus, I'm going away for   
a few days, to a place near the Cinq Kingdom."  
  
"Ah, Cinq," Marcus said. "A beautiful place, once."  
  
"It will be again," Une told him softly. "Relena and   
her brother will see to that."  
  
Marcus nodded. "If I may ask, my lady, why-?"  
  
"Why am I going? I hardly know myself. I only know   
that Sally asked me to go. She would not say why,   
but... Marcus, I must go. I must, I know not why."  
  
"Then go you will, my lady," Marcus said. "I'll bring   
the car around."  
  
"Thank you," Une said. "I'd like to drive myself,   
however."  
  
"As you wish, Lady Une."  
  
As Marcus started off, Une called after him, "Wait!"  
  
He turned slowly. "Yes, milady?"  
  
"Bring my scooter, if you would."  
  
"The scooter, Ma'am?"  
  
"Yes. If Treize hasn't gotten rid of the old thing   
yet-" She clapped a hand over her mouth, and stood   
there trembling upon the porch. "Oh... Treize..."  
  
"Milady, I-"  
  
"The scooter, Marcus. Please."  
  
"I'm fairly certain it's still here," Marcus said.   
"Mister Treize-" Even he appeared a bit choked up at   
the mention of his deceased employer. "-Mister Treize   
always used to smile when he saw it. He said... He   
said that you'd never part with the shabby old thing.   
But the way he said it..." Marcus shook his head, and   
Une nodded. "He truly loved you, Lady."  
  
"Yes. I know."  
  
Marcus pulled out the scooter. Une hesitantly put the   
key into the ignition, and turned. To her surprise,   
it started immediately. She hadn't used it in perhaps   
a year or more, not since she and Treize had begun to   
travel to places where it would be an impractical   
mode of transportation. Une still held great   
affection for her old scooter, hence its place   
amongst Treize's motor pool, but she had not been   
about to embarrass him by riding around on it at   
inopportune moments.  
  
Une tossed her bag onto the small cargo compartment,   
and stepped up upon the scooter. She nodded a goodbye   
to Marcus, who nodded back.  
  
"Are you sure about this, Lady? It's an awfully long   
way to Cinq from here."  
  
"Not as far as you might think," she answered softly.   
"When you have been to the stars and back, it does   
not seem very far at all."  
  
"Will you be alright, Lady?" he asked.  
  
Une sighed. "I truly hope so, Marcus. But please   
don't fret- I am going to Sally, after all."  
  
Marcus smiled, holding out her helmet. "Drive safely,   
my lady."  
  
"I will," Une promised, taking the helmet and putting   
it on. She kicked the scooter into gear and started   
off down the drive, her hands gripping the steering   
bars curiously hard as she wondered what might await   
her at the end of this journey, and why exactly it   
was that Sally had wanted her to come.  
  
Perhaps, she thought as she departed the mansion's   
grounds, she'd agreed to go as much out of curiosity   
as anything else. That, and because this trip might   
distract her, if only a little, from the shattering   
grief which seemed to cling to her like a shadow   
these days. She missed Treize greatly, and a part of   
her knew that she always would, that there could be,   
would be, no help for it. And yet... and yet she felt   
a need to distance herself from that pain, to think   
of something else, if only for a very short time.  
  
"Alright, Sally," she said to the silence and the   
wind tossing her hair back as she drove. "I will go   
to Cinq, and we shall see what we shall see. Perhaps   
the change of scenery will do me good, if nothing   
else."  
  
The wind tore her words away and carried them off   
towards the sea, but even so she could not help but   
go on. "Oh, Treize, how I wish that you were going   
with me. I have sent Milliardo back to Noin- but who   
will send you back to me? Of course they can't- you   
are dead, I know that. But I love you, and so I   
cannot stop hoping..."  
  
Une shook her head. "No more of this, Une. You will   
go to Cinq and see what Sally wants of you, and you   
will live one day at a time...one day at a time   
without Treize. Life must go on."  
  
*Even if,* she added silently, *you would rather put   
an end to it all than admit that.*  
  
* * *  
  
Une rode onward, into the ever-darkening sky, her   
thoughts focused upon tracing out the route before   
her, plotting every turn and crossroads she'd need to   
navigate in order to get herself to Cinq.   
  
She'd of course had no intention of mentioning this   
to Marcus, but Une intended to ride straight onward   
towards Cinq. On the roads she would take- roads she   
would take because she wished to avoid extensive   
contact with other people- there were few, if any,   
places to stop for the night. And the same mysterious   
thing that compelled her onward towards the Cinq   
Kingdom and Sally, also compelled her to continue on   
without stopping until she reached both of those   
goals.  
  
It was ridiculous, of course, as anyone would have   
told her had she told them of her plans. Which is why   
she had *not* told them. But even so, Une wondered-   
or the small corner of her mind directed entirely to   
reason, the small part of her which did not share in   
her terrible, wracking grief, but rather observed it   
dispassionately -if she might not belong back in her   
room at the estate, where the staff would surely have   
had her in short order.  
  
But this- this strange trip -was the only thing she   
had truly felt anything about in over a week, a week   
that could have been forever so far as Une was   
concerned. She had been numb when she gave the order   
for OZ to surrender, numb when she had returned to   
the burned-out shell of her apartment, numb when she   
had formed the Preventers, numb when she'd recruited   
Sally and Noin and Milliardo Peacecraft- and numb,   
too, when she had sent Milliardo back to Noin. When   
Sally had spoken to her, however, something within   
Lady Une had woken up. And now, that something would   
not rest until Une reached the sanctuary of Cinq   
Kingdom.  
  
And Une, who had lived a fragmented life for many   
years now, was not about to argue with that part of   
her Sally's call had woken. For now, that part was   
the strongest of her, the toughest. And Une needed   
that strength. Needed it very badly in fact.  
  
*I'm coming,* she found herself thinking, over and   
over. *I'm coming.* And then, as she leaned into a   
curve with the scooter, speeding 'round it, *Is this   
what you would have wanted of me, Treize? To go along   
with intuition and instinct because I have so very   
little else left? To follow my heart, or some portion   
thereof, even though it cannot lead me to you anymore   
because you are dead?*  
  
There was, of course, no answer. Several days ago she   
might have expected one, but now she did not, and   
that thought almost made her vision blur and cloud   
with tears again, before she managed to grasp it and   
hold it back.  
  
*You always had the answers for me, Treize,* she   
thought, *or near enough to always, although I don't   
think you had the answers for yourself. The answers   
must come from within me, now, and I do not think   
that I have them, either.*  
  
* * *  
  
Treize's eyes opened slowly, and he stared up at the   
ceiling of his darkened hospital room. Muscles stiff   
from hours of lying still, he slowly shrugged his   
shoulders, experimentally. Treize winced. This simply   
was not going to do, not at all. His left hand   
reached out for the palmtop which had reappeared   
sometime while he was asleep, its casing scratched   
and dented, but otherwise undamaged, and hit the   
'enter' key.  
  
Moments later, the door opened a crack, and one of   
the facility's young volunteers stuck her head in.   
"Can I help you, Mr. Khushrenada?" she asked.  
  
Treize sighed quietly. This girl- little older than   
his cousin Dorothy, perhaps even of an age with her -  
was not quite what he'd had in mind. He had hoped, if   
it were a woman who answered his call, that it would   
at least be Sally- she at least had an air of   
professionalism, and the clinical detachment he so   
desperately needed right now.  
  
"Is Doctor Po on duty?" he asked the girl.  
  
"No, sir. She's long since gone home- it's after   
midnight, you know."  
  
"No," Treize said. "I don't. I seem to have misplaced   
my watch, and I haven't a clock, either."  
  
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Well. Would you like one?"  
  
"Perhaps later. What I would like, instead, is to go   
for a walk. Doctor Po said she thought I should do   
that, and I'm feeling up to it now- there isn't much   
pain, but I can't sleep, and so I thought..." He   
smiled at her, gave her the smile he knew was still   
brilliant despite the nightmarish features that   
surrounded it.  
  
She nodded. "Of course, of course..." She approached   
the bed. "Can I help you stand, maybe?"  
  
"That would probably help, yes." He fumbled at the   
rail on the side of his bed, and she lowered it for   
him. "Thank you. Now, what I'm going to do is swing   
my legs around like so," he said, demonstrating, "and   
I'd like you to take my arm- yes, the left; right   
would be easier, of course, but it's in a bit worse   
shape..." A few moments and several quietly muttered   
curses later, he was standing- well, leaning heavily   
against his mobile IV stand, really, but that was   
still a marked improvement.  
  
"Thank you, dear," he said kindly. "Might I have the   
pleasure of knowing your name?"  
  
She smiled. "Jennifer, sir."  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jennifer," he said,   
regarding the IV stand cautiously. "Hmm. I think...   
yes, that should work." He propped his right elbow,   
which was thankfully more or less unscathed, against   
the stand, and offered his left arm to the young   
woman. "Shall we?"  
  
She took his arm, and though she tried to hide it,   
Treize did not miss the look of horror and revulsion   
that flickered across her young, pretty face. While   
it was bundled thickly in bandages, there was   
something about his left arm which still felt quite   
unnatural- something she had obviously taken note of.  
  
"I- I'm sorry..." she stammered.  
  
"Think nothing of it. It's rather bad, and there are   
things a young woman your age should not have to look   
at. I may be one of them."  
  
Jennifer sighed. "I've offended you, haven't I?"  
  
For a long moment Treize didn't answer. At last he   
said, "How do I look to you?"  
  
"Sir?" she asked.  
  
"They haven't let me near a mirror since I- well, my   
reflection as it was several days ago rather upset   
me. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"  
  
She nodded shakily. "Oh... Well. The bruising is   
starting to fade, I guess... lots of yellow, and some   
green..."  
  
"That's good," Treize mused. "It was a rather   
colorful shade of eggplant when I saw it last. Go   
on."  
  
"Um... your cuts-"  
  
"They call them lacerations, dear."  
  
"Right. Your lacerations are healing, sort of.   
There's some dried blood you could probably wash off,   
that'd help..."  
  
Treize nodded. "Good. Which way to the restroom?"  
  
"Uh-"  
  
Treize shook his head. "Never mind." Pushing the IV   
stand now with his good arm and hand, he nudged the   
door open with his toes, trailing the IV stand out   
into the hall. He nodded in greeting to the pair of   
nurses walking towards him along the hall. "Good   
evening, ladies."  
  
One of the nurses smiled back; the other muttered   
something to her companion and started back the way   
she'd come. The nurse who'd smiled at Treize turned   
to glare after her.  
  
"Well," she said. "It's good to see you out of bed,   
Colonel. Can I help you find something, or are you   
just out for a stroll?"  
  
"I was attempting to get directions to the restroom   
from one of your young volunteers, Jennifer I believe   
she said her name was-"  
  
The nurse shook her head, shoving open the door to   
Treize's room with one hand. "Jennifer!"  
  
"Yes, Nurse Martin?" the girl asked.  
  
"Come here."  
  
Jennifer crept out of Treize's room. "What did I-?"  
  
"You're supposed to be helping in the laundry, child,   
not causing trouble here."  
  
"I-"  
  
"Go on, now," Nurse Martin told her firmly.  
  
"Mister Khushrenada, I'm *sorry*," the girl said,   
sobbing now.  
  
"Go!" Treize told her, in the voice he'd once used to   
chastise insubordinate junior officers- and the voice   
he'd used more than once to keep Dorothy in line.  
  
She went.  
  
"I'm sorry about that," the nurse said as she began   
walking Treize along the hall. "Did she-?"  
  
Treize waved his right hand feebly. "She knew my   
name." He paused. "How many people would you say know   
I'm here?"  
  
"I- I'm not sure, sir. Why?"  
  
"I ask because many people believe me to be dead at   
present. And I'm not yet quite ready- Look at me," he   
said quietly. "I'm not surprised the girl didn't   
recognized me."  
  
The nurse simply patted his lesser-injured shoulder.   
"Any particular reason you're up and about now?" she   
asked.  
  
"I should have a visitor soon. She is-" Treize shook   
his head, at a loss to explain Une, and his   
relationship with her, to Nurse Martin.  
  
"Ahh," said the nurse, with a gleam in her eye. "So   
you *do* have a lady friend. Pay up, girls!" she   
added to a group of nurses from the unit who were   
just arriving for the start of their shift. "I was   
right."  
  
Treize simply looked at her. "'Lady friend'," he   
said, "is a term of which I am not particularly fond.   
She isn't yet aware I even survived the battle..."  
  
Nurse Martin shook her head. "We can certainly get   
you cleaned up, but I'm afraid when the lady arrives,   
you're going to be on your own, sir."  
  
Treize smiled wryly. "Yes. That's what I was afraid   
of. But-" He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know   
that I can- no one's seen me bathe since I was a   
child..." *Well,* he amended silently, *no one save   
Une, and none of them need to know anything about   
that.*  
  
The nurse patted his shoulder again. "Child, I have   
four boys grown now- the youngest is about your age,   
I'd guess. Don't trouble yourself over it. Come along   
this way..."  
  
An hour and several milligrams of painkillers later,   
Nurse Martin held up a mirror, and Treize gazed into   
it with no small amount of trepidation. What he saw   
reflected there surprised him. He had looked better,   
true, but he had also looked far worse, and the   
important thing in his mind was that he seemed   
himself oncemore. An injured version of himself,   
true, but unmistakably Treize Khushrenada. He nodded,   
and the nurse wrapped a warm, soft blanket around   
him. Unable to speak, he smiled his thanks. Treize   
held the blanket closed over his hospital gown, and   
it trailed him back towards his room, along with the   
IV stand.   
  
Treize once again lay back against his pillows,   
exhausted and hurting more than a little, but feeling   
better than he had in days. Not only was he clean   
again after having the blood and dirt scrubbed from   
his body, and dead skin washed from his burns, but   
after a rather long soak in the medical facility's   
whirlpool, he'd regained a great deal of movement in   
his injured limbs. They had lost much of their   
stiffness, and with that, some of the pain went as   
well, for which he was grateful. And with Nurse   
Martin's good humor and professional attitude, he had   
not found the experience nearly as embarrassing as   
he'd thought he would.  
  
It was not long before he'd fallen into a deep and   
restful sleep. When Sally and the morning staff   
arrived for work the next day, that was how they   
found him. Sally exchanged a nod with Nurse Martin as   
the latter went off-duty.  
  
As soon as she read the nurse's report, Sally knew   
that her patient was out of the woods. He still had   
quite a ways to go before he would be considered   
recovered, but now that he had expressed concern over   
his physical appearance, even going as far as to do   
something about it, she was certain he would be fine.   
Of course, Sally thought, it did help that they'd   
finally gotten him up and walking, and that they'd   
been able to coax him into the whirlpool for a time.   
He'd been a bit skeptical about that, as had every   
other burn patient Sally had ever seen, but in the   
end, he seemed to appreciate its ability to aid in   
his recovery, as did most of them after having given   
it a try.  
  
*Yes,* Sally mused to herself as she closed the   
chart, *this one's going to make it, now.*  
  
* * *  
  
Une drove on into the night, a strange sense of need   
and urgency pushing her onward. She was committed now   
to this trip, odd as it was. Une had gone too far to   
turn back now, even if she were of a mind to. And as   
she traveled along her carefully planned route, she   
drew ever closer to Cinq, and was over halfway there   
now. She had forgotten how many miles to the gallon   
the scooter could manage- and of course, Marcus being   
Marcus, the tank was full and had very recently been   
filled, despite the fact that no one had used the   
scooter in what felt to Une like ages.  
  
There had been a time when she would have considered   
that a terrible waste of money. But it had hardly   
been a secret that Treize was well-off, and Treize   
had always liked to see such things taken care of, if   
only because they had been important to her, because   
they held sentimental value for her.  
  
*It is so very typical of him,* she thought. *I   
hadn't touched the scooter in ages, but on the off   
chance that I might, he must have specifically asked   
Marcus or one of the others to have it taken care of.   
He could have replaced it with a new one; it might   
even have been cheaper for him to do that. But he   
wouldn't have dreamed of it. Just because this one   
was mine. Oh, Treize... you were always so kind to   
me, even before- How will I ever manage without you?   
How?*  
  
The sound of a car horn blaring behind her startled   
Une out of her reverie, and she jerked the scooter   
over towards the shoulder, narrowly avoiding being   
flattened by a speeding truck.  
  
"Watch where you're going, you-!" the driver shouted   
out his window.  
  
Without thinking Une shook her fist, then raised her   
middle finger at the retreating truck, though the   
detached part of her mind noted it was very unlikely   
the driver would see it at this distance.  
  
*Doesn't he have any *idea* of who I am?* she   
wondered, dazed and shaken. *I am Lady Une, adjutant   
to His Excellency, Colonel Treize Khushrenada... my   
title, if not my family's lands, restored because of   
him, because of the power he wields in this world..."  
  
"Oh," she gasped quietly. "Oh." *He's gone... he's   
really, truly gone... I have to remember that, I   
*must* remember that.*  
  
Furiously she wiped the tears from her eyes and began   
fishing in the bag for her glasses. Again Une paused,   
startled at what she had nearly done.  
  
"What am I doing?" she asked herself. "I don't need   
those, and I *know* I don't need them..." She shook   
her head. "Lady Une, you aren't getting anywhere here   
like this."  
  
With that, she kicked the scooter into gear again and   
continued on, trailing the back roads upon the map,   
on towards Cinq Kingdom.  
  
* * *  
  
It was nearing dawn when Une arrived in Cinq, and she   
was yawning as she braked the scooter to a stop   
across from the medical center. Retrieving her bag,   
she fished out the lock and chain beneath it in the   
cargo basket, and chained the scooter to a nearby   
lamp post. This done, she took hold of the bag's   
carry strap and dashed across the street, running   
almost entirely on adrenaline now. She eased open one   
of the medical center's doors and strode towards the   
front desk.  
  
She explained her business to the man standing bored   
duty there, and he lifted a phone, paging Sally Po   
downstairs.  
  
Sally herself appeared with a tired smile. "I'm glad   
you made it. We weren't expecting you so soon."  
  
"I- I had to do something, Sally. Something,   
anything, to take my mind off of things..."  
  
Sally nodded and took her arm. "Come with me, please,   
Lady Une. There's something I'd like to show you."  
  
"Alright," said Une as they started towards the   
elevators. "Do you mind if I ask what's going on? You   
explained very little when you called."  
  
But Sally shook her head. "It would really be a lot   
easier if you saw for yourself, believe me."  
  
Une raised an eyebrow at the pair of armed Preventers   
guarding the bank of elevators. "Is all of this   
security really necessary?" she asked.  
  
"For you, it is."  
  
"I never intended the Preventers to serve as armed   
guards," Une said.  
  
"I know. But in light of the recent threats, we   
decided that we'd all feel better if someone was   
watching your back."  
  
Une sighed. "I didn't think anyone knew about the   
threats."  
  
"Noin told me," was Sally's reply, as she saluted the   
two men. "Gentlemen, this is Lady Une. We're going up   
to Six."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," said one of them, returning her salute.  
  
Une and Sally stepped into the elevator.  
  
"How was the drive up?" Sally asked, punching the   
button labeled '6'.  
  
"Actually, I rode up, on my scooter."  
  
Sally sighed deeply. "Lady Une, with all due   
respect..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Perhaps it's because you are so used to protecting   
someone else, or it may be that in light of recent   
events-" *Recent events meaning Treize's death,* Une   
thought rather emotionlessly, *Nothing else has   
*happened* recently, but none of them will talk about   
it, none of them will say those words* "-you aren't   
thinking as clearly as you otherwise might, but you   
really should be more careful. Anyone could have-"  
  
"But no one did," Une said, having already decided   
not to mention her close call upon the highway. "I   
*was* careful, Sally- I even wore a helmet." She held   
up the helmet as if to demonstrate that she had, in   
fact, worn it. "I took the back roads, and I hardly   
saw anyone at all."  
  
"Even better," Sally said with another sigh. "Do you   
realize how many things could have happened, Lady,   
and how lucky you are that they didn't-?"  
  
"Yes, yes," Une said. "Please, Doctor..."  
  
Sally nodded, and said nothing more until the doors   
opened onto the sixth floor. She took Une's arm again   
and drew her out of the elevator, along the hall   
towards the nurses' station.  
  
"Good morning, Doctor," said one of the nurses. "You   
know visiting hours don't start until-"  
  
Sally waved her to silence. "Nurse Martin, I would   
like you to meet Lady Une, of the Preventers."  
  
The nurse smiled. "Pleasure to meet you, milady."  
  
"Likewise," Une said, sounding perhaps a bit   
distracted, wondering what in the world was going on.  
  
Sally propelled her onward, past the curious stares   
of other nurses and doctors, and a few yawning   
youngsters dressed in the pink and white striped   
smocks of the volunteers. At last they reached what   
seemed to be Sally's destination, for she knocked   
twice upon the door, then opened it and stepped into   
the room.  
  
"This way," Sally said to Une, who followed.  
  
"What-?" she asked, abruptly cutting herself off as   
Sally flicked on the lights.  
  
"Good morning, sir," Sally said cheerfully.  
  
*Sir?* Une wondered silently. *What on *earth*...?*  
  
Cautiously, she took one step, then another, towards   
the bed and the man lying upon it. What she could see   
of him was covered in bandages, although not as many   
as she had seen upon the severely injured in the   
aftermaths of countless battles. Walking amongst the   
beds and along the wards, gathering names of the dead   
and adding up their numbers... No, it was not this   
man's injuries which made her tremble with a mixture   
of amazement and horror.  
  
*No,* she thought quite furiously. *No, it can't be.   
He is dead. I watched him die.* Tears sprang to her   
eyes, for she did not understand- or perhaps it was   
Sally who did not. She had found, Une decided at   
last, some long-lost relation of Treize, and had   
thought that for Une to meet him and to share her   
grief might perhaps lessen it. *I watched him die!*   
Une thought again. *I watched him die, and in that   
moment my heart shattered- and she makes a mockery   
now of all of that.*  
  
"Lady," said Sally, sounding surprised, as if she had   
expected an altogether different reaction. "Lady-   
this is Colonel Treize."  
  
Une whirled on the medic then, furious. "No! Treize   
is dead. He is dead." She felt her legs give way   
beneath her, felt herself slide to the ground as if   
her body had simply folded and let go, and Une buried   
her face in her hands, catching tears between her   
fingers. "How dare you," she gasped out between her   
sobs. "How dare you? Is it not enough that I am in   
love with a dead man, that I watched him die,   
powerless to help him? I don't know why you have   
brought me here, but I should never have come."  
  
"My dear, beloved lady," said a voice heartbreakingly   
familiar in its intimacy. "Une, don't cry. Don't weep   
for me, Lady; I still live."  
  
Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered her hands, and   
rose to her feet. "Do you hate me so, Sally?" she   
asked the medic, purposely not looking at the man   
upon the bed. "What have I ever done, that you would   
hurt me so?"  
  
Sally shook her head. "Lady Une, *listen* to me.   
Moreover, listen to *him*." With that she turned and   
departed the room, leaving Une and the man- *the   
pretender,* she thought furiously -alone.  
  
Une sighed and turned away. "I am going now. If I   
ever see you again, and you claim to be who I know   
you are not, I swear I will-"  
  
"Come back to me, Lady."  
  
She gasped. Those words were so familiar. But she   
could not, dared not, believe. "Treize... No. No.   
No!"  
  
"Look upon me, that is all I ask. Come here, stand   
beside me, and look. Look past these scars and   
bandages, and if you do not see the one you loved,   
you may do as you will with me."  
  
Almost mechanically, she moved slowly forward, one   
small step at a time. All the way her legs shook   
violently beneath her, and tears streamed down her   
face.  
  
At last she reached the man's bedside, and, steeling   
herself for what she might find there, turned her   
gaze to him. A hideous mass of shrapnel wounds formed   
a livid latticework of lines upon his face, about his   
neck and shoulders, and all along one arm, bandages   
protected burnt skin- second degree burns, Une   
thought dispassionately, not deep enough to have   
destroyed the nerves, and thus quite painful. But   
beneath those gruesome decorations, she glimpsed   
something which tugged at her senses, her memory, and   
pleaded with her to remember. Something which she   
could not deny, for this man's identity was to her   
absolutely unmistakable.  
  
"Forgive me," she whispered, reaching out gently to   
touch his cheek.  
  
He caught her hand and held it as best he could. "I   
don't have anything to forgive. I can't blame you for   
not believing, my love."  
  
Wonder in her expression now, Une stood at the side   
of the bed, gazing down, into the deep crystal depths   
of Treize Khushrenada's blue eyes. "How?" she   
whispered. "How?"  
  
"I'll explain that soon."  
  
Une nodded, hardly aware he had spoken to her. She   
reached out towards him again, hesitating this time.   
"Can I...?" she asked softly.  
  
"Yes. But gently."  
  
"I'll be gentle, don't worry."  
  
"When you say that, my dear, I always worry."  
  
"Hush, sir." With that she leaned towards him,   
bracing her hands against the bedrails to either side   
of him. Grasping the rails tightly, she gently   
touched her lips to his.  
  
"I realized something the day you died," she said,   
having drawn back, but still remaining close.  
  
"What was that?" Treize asked.  
  
"In all the years we've known each other, you've said   
often that you loved me. I've never said that to   
you."  
  
"You never had to. I knew."  
  
"I regretted never saying it," Une went on. "Because   
I do love you, Treize. I have always loved you."  
  
"Always?" he asked.  
  
"When I was thirteen, my mother died. My father had   
died many years before that, so with my mother's   
death, I was an orphan. I had no other family living,   
and no friends to whom I might have gone. But soon   
after Mother died, a family of the aristocracy took   
me in. They had many daughters still living with   
them, and older children away. They sent me to   
boarding school, and I rarely, if ever, saw my foster   
parents. But I was happy at the school."  
  
"I know this story," Treize said quietly.  
  
"You should," she replied before going on.   
"Sometimes, I would catch the faintest glimpse of a   
handsome, blue-eyed stranger. He was never there when   
I turned to look, and yet he was always there in a   
way, always with me. There was not a place I could go   
to where he would not be able to find me.  
  
"That day when I was a senior cadet at Victoria, when   
you came to see me, dashing and lovely in your OZ   
uniform- you were only there two days, but in that   
time we spoke so much, that I- I had to realize I'd   
fallen in love with you."  
  
"Those two days were difficult for me," Treize said   
as he looked upon her. "I found myself viewing you   
less as the girl my influence had helped to rescue,   
and more as the woman you'd grown into. Do you   
remember that second night?"  
  
Une nodded. "You asked me to dinner so that we could   
finish getting caught up before you had to go away   
again. I've never forgotten how beautiful the stars   
were that night, when you walked me home."  
  
Treize smiled. "You said you would give anything to   
see the stars up close, you were so enchanted by   
them. And I promised you that the sight of the Earth   
from among the stars was far grander, and that   
someday I'd show it to you."  
  
"And you did." Une returned his smile. "But what I   
remember most is how the wind took your papers and   
sent them flying, and how I laughed while you chased   
them down." The tone of her voice changed then,   
growing from soft to hard in the instants between   
words. "And I remember the group of senior cadets, at   
least five of them-"  
  
"Six," he corrected, his voice nearly a whisper.  
  
"-and how silently they came up on me. How they said   
they'd show me who was strongest, who was best of the   
class, how all of my perfect scores couldn't save me   
then, weren't worth anything then, and how they were   
going to prove it. They said I was nothing but some   
aristocrat's whore, and that was how I'd gotten into   
the academy in the first place. They said I wasn't   
any good for anything, except..." The tears which had   
been brimming in her eyes now spilled over, falling   
down her cheeks like rainwater flowing along into a   
mountain stream.  
  
"Shhh," Treize said, reaching up to her, heedless of   
the pain, which was more than slight, drawing her   
into the protective circle of his arms. "Shhh, Une. I   
know. You told me then, afterwards, because I needed   
to know. But you don't have to say any of it again   
now."  
  
"I know." She buried her head against his shoulder   
for a moment, and his lesser-injured hand moved up to   
stroke her hair, as one might do to comfort a   
terrified child. There were those who would have been   
quite shocked to see the dispassionate, militaristic   
Lady Une in such condition, but Treize was not. He   
had known her well, and for years, in all her guises,   
in all the roles she played, the masks she wore, and   
the personas her own shattered psyche created for   
her. He had in the past held her as she sobbed, and   
held her as she screamed, in fear, in rage, in anger,   
and, occasionally, in pure frustration. He had always   
so hated to see her like this, but had always been   
determined that he would help her however he could.   
For he had loved her in each of her many facets, no   
one more or less than any other. He knew and loved   
them all.  
  
"And I remember," she said, quite softly now, "how   
suddenly, when I was certain the worst was about to   
begin- how suddenly you were *there*, and I knew I   
had nothing to fear. They wouldn't hurt me then; they   
didn't dare. You held your sword in your gloved hand,   
and with the moonlight glinting off the blade, and   
the wind tossing your cape around, you looked like   
the Angel of Death. And I so wanted you to kill them   
all, for the humiliation of what they'd done, and   
almost done- but I knew that it was better for them   
to live, and in the end it would hurt them more." She   
paused. "I thought- though perhaps it was nothing   
more than a schoolgirl's fantasy- that you would have   
died before a single one of them harmed me."  
  
"I would have," Treize replied. "You thought rightly-   
because I adored you even then, and, too, because I   
never draw steel on a man I am not fully prepared to   
kill."  
  
Une nodded. "My friends used to talk about you, about   
what a master swordsman you were, how none could best   
you. Were they afraid of you, I wonder, those boys?"  
  
"Maybe. They might not have feared my reputation-   
perhaps they didn't know it- but they were   
intelligent enough to fear a man with a sword who   
looked more than willing to use it. Do you know what   
became of them?" Treize asked.  
  
"No. I never heard."  
  
"I went to the Chief Instructor the next morning,   
with the names of those six. You must not have   
noticed that they were absent from your graduation. I   
wanted to tell you goodbye before I left, but you   
were asleep in the Infirmary, and I didn't want to   
wake you. I kissed your forehead, left you a red rose   
and a note, and took my leave."  
  
Une lifted her head, smiling. "I was awake. I thought   
if I'd opened my eyes I would have scared you off."  
  
"You would have," Treize said.  
  
"I kept the rose, you know."  
  
"No. I didn't know that. All these years?"  
  
"Yes. The note, too."  
  
Une seemed to realize where she was then, and she   
started to pull away, but Treize did as best he could   
to draw her back.  
  
"Damn these useless hands," he said quietly.  
  
Une smiled. "You don't need them." She leaned in and   
kissed him gently, lingeringly. "Alive," she   
whispered. "You're alive..."  
  
Treize returned her smile as she drew back. "Yes. I   
certainly am. You aren't angry, are you?" he asked.  
  
"Angry? That you're alive?" Une asked. "Don't be   
foolish."  
  
"Well. That's alright, then, isn't it?" He paused, as   
if uncertain whether or not to go on. "I have thought   
of you often, Lady."  
  
"And I of you."  
  
"I have dreamed of you... was certain I had seen you   
there, when I thought that I was dying. And I wanted   
you to know, I wanted to tell you that I..."  
  
"I know," Une said. And she was certain that she did.   
Somehow what words and gestures over the years had   
never quite been able to convince her of, because she   
was so certain she did not deserve his love...   
Somehow when she had thought him dead it had become   
painfully clear that he *had* loved her. She had   
recalled that night when he'd rushed to her rescue,   
pure fury barely hidden by his icy expression, and   
the tender way he'd held her, afterwards. Recalled,   
too, the touch of his lips on her brow the morning   
after, and then she had known. Just when she had   
thought herself done with tears, these realizations   
hit her, and she wept again, for love lost.  
  
"Be that as it may, I would like you to hear me out."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
"I love you, Lady Anne."  
  
"Une," she corrected softly. "Not Anne."  
  
Treize shook his head. "No. To me you will always be   
Anne."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Anne," he said again. "Always Anne."  
  
*Of course,* Une though, understanding at last. *He   
alone knows why I am Une today rather than Anne-   
because I was alone so very long, and because I   
thought that I always would be. And, too, he knew me   
as Anne, once; I was Anne the first time he came to   
my rescue.*  
  
"Perhaps," she said aloud. "Perhaps. Many things have   
changed. I have changed also. I am not the same young   
woman you met all those years ago."  
  
"I know," Treize replied. "And I am sorry for that,   
truly I am. I would have liked to have kept you   
innocent of things, untouched by this wretched   
darkness of my world, my existence, my life."  
  
"Well," she said, "I am glad that you never tried.   
You would not have been able to do it, and I would   
have hated you for having made the attempt."  
  
He smiled at that. "Yes, I suppose you would have."  
  
"I am not a child," she said, her voice quiet but   
insistent. "I have done things I am not proud of- not   
proud of anymore, I suppose I should say -but it was   
my choice to walk this road. My choice, not yours."  
  
"Yes, but would you have even known that road existed   
without my being there to show it to you?"  
  
"I am not *blind*," she said, "any more than I am a   
child, or a fool. Someday I would have seen it for   
myself, of that I've no doubt."  
  
*True,* he mused, *she is neither truly young   
anymore, nor blind. And certainly she is no Relena   
Darlian. For years I cursed myself because I thought   
I had made her this, because I thought I had stolen   
her innocence. But she has always been determined,   
some might even say stubborn. Perhaps it is her   
nature to choose as she has, and perhaps nothing   
could have changed that.*  
  
"I will grant you that point," Treize said. "But you   
know, it always pained me to have to put you in   
harm's way."  
  
Une shook her head. "It was my duty to place *myself*   
in harm's way, if that was what was required of me,   
to serve you, or to keep you safe. I cannot regret   
those things."  
  
"But sometimes, *I* do." Treize paused. "I never   
meant to fall in love with you, you know. I never   
expected that my second would be so beautiful, or so   
brilliant, or..." *Or,* he thought, *that she would   
be, a woman grown, the girl I once thought of as my   
little sister. Although why I was surprised, I don't   
know. I asked for the best, and they sent her to me.*  
  
Une smiled. "If it is any consolation, I had not   
expected you, either. I figured you for a snobbish   
aristocrat who would look down upon me for what I had   
lost- someone in love with his money, his titles, and   
himself. An arrogant bastard whom I would serve only   
because it was my duty, and because I did believe in,   
as someone once said, fighting for the soldiers of   
the future."  
  
Treize laughed. "An unappealing, if somewhat   
accurate, portrait of myself, in my reckless youth,   
shall we say?"  
  
Une shook her head. "They failed to mention, of   
course, that that snobbish aristocrat was *you*." She   
paused. "And that description was not as accurate as   
you think- at least not in my estimation. You *were*   
a bit snobbish, but I decided that you had earned   
your arrogance. And you never flaunted your wealth   
the way so many others of the Romafeller Foundation   
did."  
  
"Meaning my uncle, His Excellency Duke Dermail,"   
Treize said with a small smile.  
  
"Yes, well- him, and others, too."  
  
"Anne, Anne... You know that the money was nothing to   
me, that to me it never mattered."  
  
She sighed. "Only someone born to wealth and   
privilege could say such a thing."  
  
"You, too, were born to it," he said. "Your mother   
*was* a Countess, after all."  
  
"Yes," Une agreed. "But that title was taken away   
from her, and it would have been far beyond my means   
to get it back, if not for you."  
  
Treize waved this off as if it were of no   
consequence. "It was yours by rights. And those self-  
same individuals who took your mother's title and her   
lands, I have always suspected, also killed the elder   
Peacecrafts, destroyed Cinq, and..." Treize sighed.   
"Well. Numerous other things. You know I spent a   
great deal of my childhood in Cinq; my father served   
the king..."  
  
Une nodded. "I understand. It was one more thing they   
had done which hurt someone you- cared for."  
  
"No. Someone I love. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes." She paused, drew a deep breath. "Those   
people..."  
  
"Most are dead, now, I should think. There may be a   
few still hanging onto what is left of the   
Foundation, but they were bit players at best. Those   
who pulled the others' strings, who directed their   
actions... Milliardo got his revenge, at last. I   
wonder at times if he finds it as empty a thing as I   
do."  
  
Une nodded, her expression thoughtful. "He is one of   
us now- my Preventers, I mean."  
  
"Yes, I have heard tale of your Preventers. Quite the   
ambitious beginning, I think- but a good one. What of   
Milliardo, these days?"  
  
"I've sent him to Victoria- to Victoria, and to   
Noin."  
  
Treize laughed. "Did you, truly?"  
  
"I did."  
  
"Good, good. Those two... Those two have always   
belonged together. The war got in the way, of course,   
as it tends to do..."  
  
"Tended."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Past tense. The war is over."  
  
"Is it really now?"  
  
"Yes. I- We surrendered. OZ is mostly gone, phasing   
itself out now, and many of those Foundation men you   
spoke of- and the women too, of course -are most   
likely running now, the guilty along with the   
innocent."  
  
"I see I have missed quite a bit as I languished here   
alone."  
  
"It was your choice, to be alone. Sir."  
  
Treize shook his head. "If OZ is no more, then I am   
no longer your lawful superior."  
  
Une smiled. "No, I suppose you are not. But I could   
be yours- a thought which appeals to me, I admit."  
  
"Do your Preventers need one more added to their   
ranks so very badly?"  
  
"No. But I think you would make a good one."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you see what many of my Preventers may not   
be able to- that it may still be necessary to fight   
for peace."  
  
"It was always necessary to fight for peace," he   
replied.  
  
"You see? You understand."  
  
"And what would you call me, dear lady?"  
  
Une considered that for a moment. "Spirit, perhaps."  
  
Treize smiled. "We'll see."  
  
Une nodded. "Yes." She held a hand to her mouth to   
cover a yawn. "Excuse me."  
  
"No, no.. you've had rather a long night, as have I."  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't think-"  
  
"I hardly mind the time spent with you, believe me.   
But..."  
  
Une nodded. "Of course. I shouldn't have kept you up   
so long..."  
  
"Anne."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Come here."  
  
Obediently she rose from her chair and approached his   
bedside. "Milord sent for me?" she asked softly.  
  
"Yes, milady, he did." He drew her closer, bandaged   
arms holding her against him. "Stay with me."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "What will the others say?"  
  
"I don't care. Stay."  
  
"I don't want to hurt you..."  
  
Treize laughed. "Anne, I've already been hurt as   
badly as one can be and manage to survive. If you   
truly wish to spare me pain, then stay."  
  
Her eyes narrowed.   
  
"The pain is no worse, does that satisfy you?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"Don't make me ask you again."  
  
Une shook her head. "No. I'll stay." She raised her   
voice. "Lights: Off."  
  
Treize settled him arms around Une and closed his   
eyes. "Good night."  
  
"Good night," she replied. She lay her head upon his   
shoulder, and, exhausted from her long journey and   
the day's events, slept.   
  
And though both had been plagued by nightmares since   
the battle many still believed to have taken his   
life, neither Treize nor Lady Une dreamed that night,   
instead sleeping the sleep of the innocent.  
  
* * *  
  
Une woke sometime around midday, lifting her head to   
find Treize looking down upon her, a slight smile   
upon his face.   
  
"Good morning," she said. "What time is it?"  
  
Treize glanced to the table at his right, where at   
some point during the night a clock had been set. He   
wondered what thoughts had gone through the head of   
whomever had placed it there. "Quarter past noon," he   
replied.  
  
"That late?" Une asked.  
  
"You did have a late night. I thought I'd let you   
sleep."  
  
"Thanks." She paused. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Better," he replied. "Better, I think, just since   
you've been here. I'm glad you've come, Anne. It's   
rather lonely here, surrounded by all of these   
medical personnel. Sally is kind, compassionate... I   
like her. But she isn't you."  
  
Une smiled. "Should I take that as a compliment?"  
  
"I think you should."  
  
"I shall, then."  
  
Une climbed carefully out of bed, her sleep-fogged   
mind noticing belatedly, as her feet hit the floor,   
that someone had draped a blanket over the two of   
them sometime during the night. She smiled.  
  
"When was the last time you ate something, Anne?"  
  
She blinked. "I'm not sure. I've been so busy..."  
  
Treize shook his head. "You were going to let   
yourself grieve to death. Quickly."  
  
"Your point being?"  
  
"Breakfast," he said.  
  
Une nodded. "As you wish." She bowed deeply, sweeping   
her arm across to touch her shoulder, and moved   
towards the door.  
  
She made her way towards the nurses' station.  
  
"Can I help you?" one of them asked.  
  
"Cafeteria?" Une asked. "We've probably missed   
breakfast, but..."  
  
"He's eating?" the nurse asked, sounding quite   
excited. "That's wonderful! I'll have a tray sent   
up."  
  
Une's eyes narrowed. "We're speaking of Mister   
Treize?"  
  
"In 613, yes."  
  
"Hypocrite," Une said quietly under her breath.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Nothing," Une said aloud. "If it isn't any   
trouble..."  
  
"Not at all."  
  
"Thank you," she said.  
  
Back in Treize's room, Une stood beside the bed, arms   
crossed over her chest, looking rather annoyed.   
"We're more alike than I thought," she said.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes." Une reached for the chart in its place at the   
foot of the bed. She opened it and flipped through   
pages of notation, medical terms and vital statistics   
she did not entirely understand. She understood   
enough, though, to know what had gone on before she'd   
arrived in Cinq.  
  
"You," she said quietly and dangerously, "tried to   
kill yourself."  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
Une simply glared at him. "Why would you do that?"  
  
"Because I- Do you remember when I asked you for the   
numbers, and you gave them to me?"  
  
Une fought the urge to swear, something she was not   
all that prone to doing. *The numbers,* she thought.   
*Again the numbers which have obsessed him so.* "I   
remember telling you quite often that dwelling on   
them wasn't healthy."  
  
"I needed to know. I always needed to know."  
  
Une nodded. "Mm. Yes."  
  
"Anne- Can you even imagine? So many souls, giving   
their lives because *you* had ordered them to it,   
because *they* had chosen to fight, and you'd all but   
told them when and where and how and why they were   
going to give their lives? Can you?"  
  
She snapped closed the chart, a look of raw fury   
crossing her face. "In this world, peace was a thing   
we had to fight for. You said as much last night, and   
you were not wrong about that. Those who died, chose   
to risk their lives. Chose to! And you- At least you   
didn't waste them, at least you gave them a chance,   
gave their deaths meaning."  
  
"Did I? Or did so many die for so little, for my   
arrogance and my foolish ambition? I thought of them   
all, each of those people and the lives they could   
have lived, and I couldn't stand it."  
  
"Do you still count the ones I killed for you among   
your numbers?" Une asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Even the ones who would have killed you if I   
hadn't-"  
  
"Even them."  
  
Une shook her head. "There were always things you   
could not do, and I never questioned that. I would do   
anything for you, and I have- and are you telling me   
now that you blame yourself, that you feel guilt even   
for the evil men I destroyed, men who threatened your   
life?"  
  
"Were they evil?" Treize asked. "I'm not sure they   
were."  
  
"And I," said Une, "don't care. My duties were   
simple- to follow your orders, and to protect you.   
They threatened you; they died. It is that simple."  
  
"I see now why they called you heartless and   
bloodthirsty, Lady."  
  
"I'm neither, as you know well. Do you think I find   
it easy now, existing whole instead of as a series of   
fragments, to recall all those times I pulled the   
trigger, ending someone's life? It haunts me every   
day. But I would do it again. A hundred, a million,   
times, I would do it again. *I would do it again.*"   
With a flick of her wrist she sent the chart flying   
towards him, and only quick reflex saved him from   
being struck by it. "And I won't let you say that   
*you* regret those deaths, that they weigh upon   
*your* conscience."  
  
"Lady, I-"  
  
"Let me finish. Have I done things that were wrong?   
Yes. Have I done things which I regret? God, yes. But   
do I regret a single thing I was ever asked to do for   
you? I don't. And do you know why? Because I believed   
in you, believed in your goals, even when you doubted   
them."  
  
"Even though those goals may have been flawed?"  
  
"No. They weren't. The methods we used to reach them   
might have been, but the goals themselves? No. They   
were not." She drew a deep breath before going on.   
"And must I tell you how it pains me to know that you   
would have died for things I did? For things I did   
because I considered them my duty? It *was* my duty,   
to kill for you, to die for you if necessary, not   
yours to die for me."  
  
Treize nodded silently. Then, very quietly he asked,   
"Don't you ever feel any guilt?"  
  
"Of course I do. But what would my death, or yours,   
possibly change?"  
  
"No one else would have died for me then."  
  
"They don't need to, now; you can take care that no   
one does again, if that is your wish. But if you ever   
think to attempt this again-" She gestured towards   
the fallen chart, a sharp, jerky motion.  
  
"No. No, I won't-"  
  
"Damn right you won't," Une snapped, at last giving   
in to her urge to curse. "How dare you? You managed   
to survive the battle, only to try to kill yourself   
as soon as you'd regained a bit of your strength.   
While I cried for you, you were preparing to die   
again- as if once weren't enough."  
  
She stormed around the bed, snatching up the chart   
from where it had landed upon the floor. Then,   
calmly, she returned it to its proper place.  
  
The breakfast tray arrived then, and both lapsed into   
silence, Treize reflecting upon everything Une had   
said, finding her words full of a truth which left   
him reeling. Une, meanwhile, did as best she could to   
calm herself down, knowing that she had said her   
piece, and now must give Treize time to digest what   
she had said. She lifted a sandwich from the tray,   
and examined it cautiously before taking the first   
bite.  
  
"After you've been here a day or two," Treize said   
teasingly, "you'll learn not to look too closely at   
any of the food."  
  
Une laughed softly.   
  
"I'll leave the things you have done to your   
conscience, instead of mine," he said, getting back   
to the matter they had been discussing earlier. "And   
you are right. My actions were- unwise."  
  
"Selfish," Une corrected, without so much as a hint   
of reproach. Rather than being as unkind of a   
statement as it could have been, what she said was a   
simple statement of fact.  
  
"Yes. Selfish is the right word." Then he said, very   
softly, "Anne." The subject of his suicide attempt   
had been discussed, and now, so far as he was   
concerned, it was a thing of the past. Now came time   
to change the subject and discuss something else he   
had been meaning to get to.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Someday, one would hope sooner rather than later, I   
am going to be getting out of here."  
  
"Of course," Une said, as if this fact were totally   
obvious. That he might *not* leave the hospital was a   
thought she had dismissed with his promise that his   
first suicide attempt had also been his last.  
  
"And it occurs to me that we haven't discussed what   
will happen after."  
  
"I had assumed that we would go back home. That is, I   
mean-"  
  
"No, 'home' is a very apt term, and I don't mind that   
you use it. I left you the estate, didn't I?"  
  
"You did. I was quite shocked by that, by the way."  
  
"Of course you were. But, Lady Anne..."  
  
"You're thinking of something, aren't you?" she   
asked.   
  
Treize smiled. "Perceptive, Lady. I'm sorry that this   
is offered in this manner- I had wanted to do things   
very differently. But lying here as I am has given me   
time to think, and among other things I've realized   
that it is my intentions that matter more than   
anything else. And so..."  
  
She simply listened, hands clasped tightly together   
in her lap. She was uncertain if, truth be told, she   
would be able to form any words if she tried to   
speak. She, too, considered the matter of his near-  
death to be closed. What she had said, had needed to   
be said, but now that it had been, Une was more than   
willing to let it go, and she focused now on his   
words, and what he could possibly mean by them.  
  
"I have thought of you constantly these past years-   
both when you were with me and when you were far   
away. You never left my thoughts, you know that. As   
you know that I love you, that I do not think I could   
exist without you..."  
  
She did speak, then, very, very softly. "Treize..."  
  
"Oh, I *could*," he went on, "but it would not be a   
life I would enjoy."  
  
"But I-" Une began, uncertain even before he   
interrupted, what she meant to say or how she'd   
intended to finish that sentence.  
  
"Hush, Lady. Let me go on at my own good speed." She   
nodded silently. "I should have done this long ago,   
but I had obligations I felt I needed to meet first,   
and then there were promises I had to keep. I wanted   
to be able to offer you the same amount of attention   
I devoted to those obligations, before I even dared   
to think of... But now, my lady, my beloved lady   
Anne, it would do me great honor if you would consent   
to be my wife."  
  
She gasped. "Treize!"  
  
"Is that a yes?"  
  
"Of course it's a yes, but, are you certain-?"  
  
"Anne, I've been certain for years." He paused, and   
his smile faded. "I only regret that I have no ring   
to give you now."  
  
"I don't need-"  
  
"I *had* a ring, my mother's, in fact, which I   
carried with me for months, waiting for the perfect   
opportunity, the perfect chance to give it to you.   
But that day never came, and somehow in the chaos of   
the battle, I-" He trembled, and she wrapped her arms   
around him gently. "I lost it," he whispered. "I had   
wanted you to have it, Anne..."  
  
"Shh, it's alright. It's alright. Maybe it is gone-   
or maybe we'll find it someday. It doesn't matter.   
What matters is that you are alive- that you've come   
back to me."  
  
"Even dead, I would never leave you."  
  
"But you did." The words slipped out before she could   
stop them. Perhaps, while the issue of the suicide   
attempt had been dealt with, his simple failure to   
contact her had not. "Treize, I'm sorry, I didn't   
mean-"  
  
"Please, I beg of you- forgive me now. Forgive me   
now, and marry me- this summer, I think, at that site   
upon my- our -lands you love so much."  
  
She smiled, and kissed him passionately, but with   
infinite gentleness. "Yes," she whispered against his   
lips.  
  
"God," he said, as they held each other as best they   
could, she being careful not to hurt him, he careful   
with his numerous injuries. "God, Anne..."  
  
"I love you," Anne said.  
  
Before Treize could answer, the door opened smoothly   
upon its well-oiled hinges, and Dr. Sally Po stepped   
into the room.  
  
"Oh," she said, startled, and started to return the   
way she'd come.  
  
With great reluctance Anne drew away from Treize.   
"No, it's alright, Sally."  
  
Treize nodded. "I don't suppose you've come to   
release me from this prison?"  
  
Sally shook her head. "Not just yet, I'm afraid. I   
did want to say, though, that you seem to be doing   
much better, and that perhaps in under a week, you   
*can* go home."  
  
"Wonderful," Treize said with a smile. "Anne, my   
dear... you seem a bit flushed. Why don't you go and   
take some air?"  
  
"I believe I will," Anne said. "A walk sounds nice. I   
think there's a park not far from here..."  
  
Sally nodded. "Yes. It's pretty this time of year,   
with the roses in bloom."  
  
"I'll bring you back one," Anne promised Treize.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at her. "That may not be   
entirely legal..."  
  
Anne shrugged. "As Noin once told me, everything is   
legal until you get caught."  
  
Treize smiled. "Enjoy yourself, Anne."  
  
"I will."  
  
Sally busied herself with Treize's chart until Anne   
had left the room, and until the door closed behind   
her. Then she replaced the chart, and turned to her   
patient. "So," Sally said. "Was there something in   
particular you wanted to discuss with me while she's   
gone?"  
  
"You don't miss much, do you, Doctor?" Treize nodded,   
almost as if confirming this fact to himself. "I   
wanted to talk to you about one of the hospital's   
volunteers, a girl by the name of Jennifer."  
  
Sally sighed. "What's she done now?"  
  
"There's something about her I don't trust, for one   
thing," Treize explained. "She seems a little too   
interested in me, and while she claims to have had a   
crush on me since my first television appearance..."  
  
Sally shook her head slowly. "I don't know. There   
*is* something off about her, that much I'm sure of.   
Lady Une- Lady Anne, I suppose I should say -seems to   
feel the same way about her, from what I hear. And,   
well... The Preventers exist for a reason, sir."  
  
Treize nodded. "Perhaps it's nothing. But since I   
can't convince myself of that..."  
  
"I'll keep an eye on her," Sally promised. "Or see   
that someone does, anyway. If we turn up anything   
interesting, I'll pass it along."  
  
"Thank you, Sally."  
  
"You're welcome, sir."  
  
* * *  
  
Anne stepped from the building with her Preventer   
escort in tow. She had tried and failed to convince   
them to stay behind, and so was determined to act as   
if they were not there at all. The two Preventers,   
for their part, seemed glad to be allowed to trail   
behind her, as she was not always so accommodating to   
them.  
  
She found herself quickly lost in reverie as she   
moved along the sidewalk, her thoughts returning   
again and again to the words Treize had spoken back   
in his hospital room. The past two days had been so   
shocking to her that she was amazed to find herself   
coping as well as she was.  
  
Anne felt a hand grasp her elbow and draw her back,   
and she turned her head to glare at whichever of the   
two Preventers had done it, only catching sight of   
the car that would have struck her out of the corner   
of her eye.  
  
"Oh," said Anne quietly. "Thank you. I suppose I   
wasn't watching where I was going."  
  
She looked very carefully both ways before crossing   
the street. *That was really quite stupid of you,   
Anne,* she told herself, amazed at the fact that   
yesterday she'd been Une, and today, suddenly, she   
was Anne again. *You could have been killed. And,   
think, what would Treize do then?*  
  
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the strangeness   
of the past few days. But whatever the reason, Anne   
burst out laughing, and found it nearly impossible to   
stop.  
  
"Oh, my," she said, gasping for breath. "Wouldn't it   
just serve him right, too?"  
  
"Ma'am?" asked one of the Preventers, looking a bit   
concerned. It was the same one who had pulled her   
back from the curb, and she felt a brief bit of guilt   
because she did not know his name, or his partner's,   
either. She would just have to learn them, Anne   
decided. Perhaps she would pull their files when she   
returned to the medical center.  
  
"Never mind," she told him. "I'm just thinking out   
loud, that's all." Weather he accepted this   
explanation or not, he said nothing more of it, and   
nor did his partner.  
  
The sidewalks were somewhat crowded this time of day,   
and she sensed rather than saw the Preventers   
struggling to keep her in sight. Anne briefly toyed   
with the idea of dropping back to where they wouldn't   
loose her again, but tossed that thought aside almost   
as quickly as she'd come upon it. No, she needed to   
be alone, to walk and to think, and it was impossible   
to do that with her two shadows a half-step behind.  
  
She understood their concern for her safety, of   
course; it was their duty to be concerned, and if   
they were a bit overprotective at times, well, a   
slight case of paranoia had saved many a protectee's   
life- including that of Treize Khushrenada. *Which   
means,* she told herself, *you were once as bad as   
these two. Though of course the times were   
different...*  
  
Anne lowered her head and allowed herself to blend   
into the crowd. It helped immensely that most of   
those surrounding her were near enough to her own   
age, young people heading to work or school, running   
errands, or simply out with their friends.  
  
But for all that she was able to blend into this mix,   
Anne had never felt herself quite so alone- not since   
her days at Victoria, the last of them taking place a   
year or so before Noin and Zechs arrived there. She   
had been the best of her class, but Noin had beaten   
her scores, and Zechs had beaten hers, and if Anne   
still held the third-highest marks of all time, it   
was of little consequence, and no one remembered it,   
save Treize, who knew everything, or so it seemed,   
and perhaps her instructors, who had rather liked   
her.   
  
The same could not have been said for her fellow   
students. Many of them hated her because she was   
smart and capable, skilled at piloting and   
marksmanship both, and certainly the best of them   
all. But mostly, they had hated her because she was   
smart, capable, and *female*. Through those four   
years she had told herself that she did not care what   
they thought of her- but she did, very much. And   
after a time, all she wanted was to prove herself to   
them, to make something of herself and to show them   
that she was not any of the horrible things they'd   
shouted anonymously from the marching lines, or the   
ones they'd scrawled on her locker.  
  
And in the end she *had* made something of herself,   
though she had not done as well as Noin, or Zechs, in   
the eyes of many. People might have resented or   
disliked Zechs, but he was awarded a grudging sort of   
respect which Anne, in the days when she had been   
Une, had hardly ever seen the slightest bit of, for   
if they had considered Zechs to be only Treize's   
pawn, by comparison she had been something far worse.   
  
And Noin! Oh, how Anne was tired of finding herself   
compared to Noin. She had rather disliked the woman   
the first time they'd been required to work together,   
but had discovered the hard way that continuing to   
hate her would do no good in the end. Apparently Noin   
had come to a similar decision where Une was   
concerned. And so Une had come to find at the last   
that, loath though she was to admit it, she rather   
liked Noin. And it had been rather nice to be able to   
consider one of the few other women of reasonably   
high rank within OZ a friend, rather than an enemy.   
It had seemed to Anne that the female cadets during   
her days at Victoria, save those few who had by some   
odd miracle become her friends, had hated her twice   
as much as the males did. She wondered often if   
Noin's own years at Victoria had been similar, but   
she had never asked the other young woman about them.   
Perhaps someday now, she would.  
  
Anne sighed. *We all of us, but particularly Zechs,   
Noin, and I... We all grew up so very fast. I know   
how it was for Zechs, or at least part of that, and I   
have vague ideas of the way it was for Noin. But for   
me it began when I was thirteen, when Mother died. I   
didn't know then that Treize was watching me, that he   
knew whose daughter I was, or that my mother's name   
actually meant something to him. I didn't know that   
he was the one who called those who finally came to   
try and take care of me- the ones who hardly seemed   
to notice I existed amongst their sea of daughters,   
the ones who packed me off to boarding school at the   
end of that summer... But it was not a bad life, it   
truly wasn't. And every so often out of the corner of   
my eye I would see that handsome young man with the   
brilliant blue eyes. My roommates over those years   
called him Anne's ghost- or Une's ghost, when I made   
them start calling me that, but he was real, more   
real than I could ever have imagined...*  
  
She shook her head as if in attempt to clear it,   
glancing back over her shoulder at the medical   
facility as if to assure herself that it did in fact   
exist, that she had just been there. Sunlight glinted   
off its many windows, and she thought that perhaps   
Treize was looking out of one of those.  
  
She reached the fingers of one hand over to the   
other, grasped hold of a small patch of skin, and   
pinched. As she watched a small spot of red rise up,   
felt the sharp but quickly gone pain as her fingers   
caught that skin between them, the world nearly spun   
before her, and she had to catch herself quickly,   
stumbling into a young girl zipping past on roller   
skates.  
  
"I'm sorry," Anne said to the girl. "Are you   
alright?"  
  
The girl nodded before skating onward. Anne looked   
up, watching her depart, and was relieved to see a   
large expanse of green a block or so up along the   
street. She had become so very lost in her thoughts   
that she hadn't paid all that much attention to where   
she was going, but it seemed despite that, her feet   
were carrying her in the right direction.  
  
Anne drew in a deep breath, as a breeze brought the   
scent of roses towards her. She smiled. Now, as   
always, sight or scent of roses made her think of   
Treize- fondly, as she always thought of him. She   
wished, not for the first time since departing his   
room, that he could have accompanied her on this   
walk. How he would have loved to see these gardens,   
the very sight of which, even from a distance,   
reminded Anne of home.  
  
Home. She smiled again. Such a simple word, and yet   
it could have a thousand meanings. It meant to Anne   
only one thing now, only one thing that was of any   
importance. Treize. Treize, who though injured in   
battle less than two weeks ago, was, Sally said, most   
likely going to make a full recovery; Treize, who had   
looked into her eyes all those years ago and known,   
without her ever having to say a word, that she loved   
him, and always had; Treize, who had done it again   
only moments ago, and who had this time, with no   
other duties to stand in his way, with no battles   
left to fight or promises yet to be kept, had asked   
her to marry him.  
  
The enormity of that hit her as she made her way into   
the park, as her feet slipped from cracked pavement   
to soft yet solid grass-covered ground. And for a   
moment she stood still, surprise, shock, amazement,   
wonder, all sweeping over her, each giving way to the   
next. Then she smiled, and continued on.  
  
Almost absentmindedly, Anne glanced back over her   
shoulder as she walked, searching the park for the   
two Preventers. She was relieved when she didn't find   
them. She supposed they were capable enough at their   
tasks, but she felt, as she always had, that she was   
more than able to look after herself. They would be   
furious, of course, that she had managed to elude   
them yet again, but the fault was really theirs for   
allowing that to happen in the first place. She made   
a brief mental note to discuss that with Noin-   
perhaps there was a way they could be better trained   
in that area -and then promptly let the issue go, as   
if it had never crossed her mind at all. When next   
she spoke to Noin she would recall it, and it would   
not trouble her in the meantime.  
  
Anne walked amongst the roses- red, pink, yellow, and   
white, along with several rare varieties of peach,   
and a deep pink that was nearly a purple. But it was   
the reds which drew her eye again and again. She   
smiled at that. Yes, it would be the reds.  
  
"They're pretty, aren't they?" a child's voice asked   
from somewhere beside her.   
  
Anne turned to smile at the girl. "Yes, they are.   
Which one is your favorite?"  
  
The child seemed to consider that for a moment or   
two. "I think I like the red best. It's not the same   
red as my hair," she added, running her fingers   
through her hair, which was, indeed, red of a   
different sort, "but it's pretty anyway."  
  
Anne smiled again. "The red is my favorite, too."  
  
The girl nodded. "I thought so. I saw you looking at   
them."  
  
*Observant child,* Anne thought. *Perhaps that is   
what seems so very odd about her. But no, it's more   
than that, I know it is. Almost as if she were   
familiar to me somehow.*  
  
Anne looked around then, eyes scanning those nearby   
for a parent to whom this beautiful child might   
belong. For she was beautiful- that lovely red hair,   
and blue eyes like crystal, set into a face which was   
pretty now, and would be far beyond that by the time   
she was Anne's age.  
  
To her surprise, she saw no one who resembled the   
girl, and no one who appeared to be watching her  
as if she were their charge, either.  
  
"Where's your mother?" Anne asked.  
  
"She died, when I was younger," the girl said.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Anne said.  
  
The girl looked up at her, a line of confusion   
appearing upon her brow. "Why? You couldn't have   
known that."  
  
Anne paused before answering her, rather taken aback.   
Clearly the girl was not only well-spoken, but very   
intelligent for her age as well. "You're right. I   
suppose what I should have asked is where the person   
watching you has wandered off to."  
  
The girl shrugged her small shoulders. "I don't know.   
I guess they haven't missed me yet."  
  
Anne laughed despite herself. "I'm afraid there are   
people looking for me, who very probably *have*   
missed me by now. I'm really not supposed to be here   
by myself..."  
  
"Why?" asked the girl.  
  
"They think I'm important, I suppose," Anne said at   
last.  
  
The girl nodded. "People think I'm important, too. My   
grandfather says that I am. Sometimes he says it too   
much. I'm not supposed to go out of sight of the   
guards, but sometimes I do anyway."  
  
Anne nodded, realizing quickly that this child was   
even more unusual than she had first thought.   
"Sometimes you need to be by yourself, I think," she   
said. "Even if people tell you it's unsafe, or   
dangerous, or..."  
  
The girl nodded.  
  
"But at your age-" Anne began.  
  
"Please don't say that," the girl interrupted   
quickly. "I have heard that so often that I never   
want to hear it again."  
  
Anne nodded. "I can understand that. But don't you   
think your grandfather will be worried about you by   
now?"  
  
The girl thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so.   
Eventually he will notice I'm gone, and then he'll   
yell at someone, and they'll try to come and find me.   
But it will take them a long time to figure out where   
I've gone, because they really aren't very bright,   
and until then I can do what I want and none of them   
will bother me."  
  
Before Anne could answer, an elderly man dressed in a   
military uniform, one she was not familiar with,   
stormed into the clearing. A beret with an equally   
unfamiliar emblem sat slightly askew upon his head.  
  
"Where is that damned girl?" he said, to himself,   
probably, Anne thought, but his voice was both loud   
and deep, and the sound of it carried.  
  
Beside her the child cringed, and Anne felt a sudden   
urge to sweep her up into her arms and carry her away   
before this man got hold of her. She felt the girl   
slip into hiding between herself and the rosebush,   
her small hands holding tightly to the backs of   
Anne's legs. Anne held very still so as not to give   
the child away.  
  
At last the old man's gaze turned to drill into her,   
for there was no one else in the clearing that he   
could see, and of course, already being here, he   
couldn't simply turn and walk away. He would have to   
speak to her first, to maintain his image and to   
avoid looking a fool, even if only to someone whom he   
would never see again.  
  
His eyes were cold and dead, reminding her of a shark   
she'd once seen on a childhood visit to an aquarium.   
There was something harsh and unkind about his   
features which once would have scared her, or one of   
her personalities at any rate, into doing nothing at   
all- but the Lady Anne of today simply met that dark   
gaze and held it, as if it took little to no effort   
at all.  
  
"You, there, have you seen a little girl?" the old   
man snarled. Even before he spoke to her, there had   
been something about him that made her more than a   
little uneasy, which might explain why she had   
reacted so instinctively when the girl had hidden   
behind her. But not until he addressed her directly   
did Anne realize what sort of man she was dealing   
with. There was something *not right* about him, as   
there had been something not right about the cadet   
she had known back at Victoria- a cadet who had been   
among her few friends there before the Psych   
department's medics had come for her. Anne did not   
often allow herself to think of that friend, as she   
had found the instance of her departure from the   
academy greatly disturbing.  
  
"I've seen any number of little girls today, sir,"   
Anne said, "Some on the swings, others near the   
sandbox-"  
  
"Alright, alright," he growled. "Think you're funny,   
don't you? The girl I'm looking for is about this   
tall-" He held a hand above the ground, at a height   
significantly lower than that of the child hiding   
behind Anne "-red hair, green eyes-"  
  
"Her eyes are blue, sir," said a voice from somewhere   
behind him. "Like her-" Anne's eyes flicked in the   
direction of that voice only long enough to note four   
men with the look of hired soldiers about them, and   
then she returned her gaze to the old man. The four   
were obviously well-armed, but it was the old man   
whom she sensed would be the greatest danger.  
  
"What?" snapped the old man, waving a hand to cut off   
whatever the other man might have gone on to say.   
"Fine, whatever- red hair, blue eyes... What was she   
wearing? Oh yes, a pink dress..."  
  
Anne shook her head, pleased that she could now say   
quiet honestly she had not seen this girl. The child   
she'd met, and the one crouched behind her now, was   
wearing black. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding quite   
apologetic. "I'm afraid I haven't seen her. I do hope   
you find her, though," she added.  
  
His reply was an unintelligible grunt. "Damn that   
girl!" the man swore as he stormed away, with the   
others following.  
  
When she was certain they were out of earshot, Anne   
knelt beside the girl, who, although trying her best   
to be brave, was trembling with fear.  
  
"Your grandfather?" Anne asked.  
  
The girl gave a shaky nod, and Anne shuddered. "I   
can't imagine why a child like you should have to   
live with someone like that. You said your mother has   
died, but what of your father? Couldn't he-?"  
  
"Oh," whispered the child, "I keep hoping he will,   
but I don't think he knows I exist. I don't know   
where to find him..."  
  
"Well," said Anne, "can you tell me his name? I-   
well, to be frank, I am a person of some importance   
these days, and if he is alive anywhere in the world   
or on any of the colonies, I can find him."  
  
"Could you?" Tears filling her blue eyes, the girl   
looked so hopeful that Anne thought her heart would   
break. "His name is..." She looked around quickly, as   
if to make certain she would not be overheard. "His   
name is Treize Khushrenada."  
  
Anne gasped, suddenly realizing why the child had   
looked so very familiar to her. *Treize's daughter.   
She's Treize's daughter.* They had known for years   
that the child existed, and had tried very hard to   
find him or her, but had been unsuccessful. If only   
there was a way she could get the girl away from here   
before the old man and his soldiers came back...  
  
Then she thought, quite shocked: *Her eyes are blue.   
Like her father's*. That was what the soldier had   
been about to say before the old man had stopped him,   
she was certain of it.  
  
"And what's your name?" Anne asked, surprised that   
there was no tremor in her voice. For though her   
voice was calm, her thoughts were racing. *Treize,   
I've found her. After all these years, I've found   
her. And I will help her somehow, I must.*  
  
"Mariemaia. Mariemaia Khushrenada. My grandfather   
says I'm not supposed to tell people that, that I   
should say my name is Barton, like his." Mariemaia   
trembled. "But I know who my father is, and I admire   
him so! I am proud to be his daughter. I've seen my   
father, on television, and he looks like me. He looks   
like me."  
  
"Yes," Anne said, finding her voice again at last,   
"He does."  
  
"Grandfather hates him," Mariemaia told her. "But I   
don't. He is my father, and when he speaks, what he   
says makes so much sense. What my grandfather says is   
different. I wonder sometimes if Grandfather is mad."   
Somehow Anne knew by the tone of her voice that   
Mariemaia meant not angry, but rather insane. And   
after her brief exchange with Barton, she wondered it   
as well.  
  
"Mariemaia," Anne said, "you've seen your father on   
television. Do you know who I am?"  
  
Mariemaia studied her features. "You look quite a bit   
like- Lady Une! I thought I recognized you, but I   
wasn't sure. You're Lady Une?" She sounded as if she   
had just found something amazing and wondrous,   
thought by many to be only myth, but which she had   
always known existed.  
  
Anne smiled. "Close enough. My name is Anne; the   
world knows me as Lady Une."  
  
"Can you-?" Mariemaia started, but was never able to   
finish, for just then her grandfather returned to the   
clearing, his small knot of soldiers in tow. Anne was   
uncertain what had drawn him back, but she cursed his   
untimely arrival.  
  
"There she is!" the old man exclaimed, pointing at   
Mariemaia with the fingers of one thick hand.  
  
Anne clutched Mariemaia to her, turning only her head   
to face the old man and his men, having to look up at   
them but somehow managing not to seem as if she were   
doing it from even a slightly inferior position. "I   
don't know who you think you are, or what you're   
doing here," she said very, very coldly, "but you're   
scaring this poor child to death, and I won't stand   
for it."  
  
"She's my granddaughter, and I'm taking her home,   
now."  
  
"No, I don't think you are," Anne told him.  
  
"Listen to me, you arrogant twit. My name is Dekim   
Barton. This is Mariemaia Barton-"  
  
"Mariemaia Khushrenada!" the girl exclaimed. "Don't   
you know who she is? Don't you?"  
  
"I don't care-" Dekim Barton started.  
  
"Shut up, Grandfather! Her name is Lady Une. She   
works with my father. My *father*!"  
  
Barton growled. "Your father is worse than useless,   
girl, as is anyone he works with. Now come *here*."  
  
"No. My father is a great man." She turned to Anne.   
"I want to meet him."  
  
"Enough of this," the old man said to one of his men.   
"Get her."  
  
Anne stood then, with Mariemaia in her arms. "Little   
one, your father has been looking for you since the   
day you were born. Did you know that?"  
  
As the soldier drew closer, Anne straightened,   
holding her head high. The man reached out for   
Mariemaia, and she cringed away, while Anne swung a   
delicate-looking fist into the man's face in an   
anything but delicate blow.  
  
"I've heard enough of this nonsense," Barton said   
before Mariemaia could answer. He withdrew a pistol   
from his coat and aimed it at Anne and the girl.   
"Give her to me now, or-"  
  
"Don't, Grandfather!" Mariemaia exclaimed.   
  
"Be quiet, girl!" Barton said sharply. "Just shut up,   
and this will all be over soon. Then we're going   
home, and you're going to help me, just like we   
talked about-"  
  
Anne felt Mariemaia stiffen in her arms. "No!" the   
girl told him. "I don't want to help you take over   
the world, Grandfather."  
  
"Now listen here, child. You're *going* to help me-"  
  
"Grandfather!" Mariemaia exclaimed, pointing.  
  
Anne saw immediately what had drawn the girl's   
attention- her Preventers had found her at last, just   
in time to see Barton draw his gun on the woman they   
were assigned to protect. As she held Treize's child   
in her arms, as she stared down the barrel of   
Barton's gun, and as she considered the exchange of a   
few instants ago, Anne made a split-second decision.   
Slowly and deliberately she nodded, then whirled so   
that her back was to Barton and the Preventers,   
shielding Mariemaia from both the sight of what was   
to come, as well as from any stray bullets.  
  
Two shots rang out, and then a third. Anne heard a   
loud thump- Barton, most likely -and a few more   
shots, then the sound of footsteps retreating at a   
run, as Barton's surviving soldiers fled. One of the   
Preventers approached Anne and Mariemaia, while the   
other retrieved the weapons carried by Barton and his   
soldiers.  
  
"Lady Une?" asked the Preventer, beside her now.  
  
"I'm alright," she told him.   
  
"You killed my grandfather," Mariemaia said very   
frankly to the Preventer. "Thank you. If you hadn't   
done that, he would have killed Lady Une, maybe both   
of us."  
  
He seemed more than a bit taken aback by this. "Who   
is she?" he asked Anne.  
  
"Her name is Mariemaia," Anne told him, "and she is   
Colonel Treize's daughter. That is all you need to   
know here and now."  
  
He nodded. "Alright. Is she coming with us?"  
  
Anne simply looked at him, shifting Mariemaia's   
weight in her arms.  
  
"I think that's a yes," said Mariemaia helpfully.  
  
"These are all dead, ma'am," the second Preventer   
said as he approached them. "Should we search them   
for ID?"  
  
Anne shook her head. "No. Call the local Preventers   
and ask them to investigate this. They will need to   
move fast, make certain they understand that."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," the second Preventer said, then went to   
make the call.  
  
Anne, still holding Mariemaia in her arms, turned to   
the first. "We'll be heading back now," she told him.   
"You know where to find me. Please report as soon as   
you learn anything at all."  
  
He shook his head. "No, ma'am. We left you alone for   
under an hour, and in that time, you were nearly   
killed by the old man and his friends. I think it's a   
very good idea for you to go back, but I'm going with   
you."  
  
Mariemaia was nodding slowly. "His logic is sound,"   
she pointed out.  
  
Anne nodded, one hand moving to stroke Mariemaia's   
hair. "All of this must be quite a shock to you," she   
said.  
  
"Not really," Mariemaia told her. "It was hardly the   
most horrible thing I've ever seen. Grandfather truly   
meant to rule the world- he said that I would rule   
it, and not him, but it was obvious from the   
beginning what he meant to do. I never wanted to help   
him, but he left me little choice. And my mother,   
when she was alive, was almost as bad. She said I   
could make up for the deficiencies in my lineage by   
aiding in Grandfather's schemes... But there was   
nothing *wrong* with my lineage, and I knew it even   
if she didn't." Mariemaia sighed. "Mothers aren't   
supposed to be like that, are they?"  
  
"No," said Anne, "they are not."  
  
* * *  
  
Anne found Treize walking alone about the floor,   
bandaged hands pushing the IV stand before him. She   
started to hand Mariemaia off to Sally, who stood   
nearby, but the girl did not seem to want anyone else   
holding her, and so Anne followed Treize along the   
hall, Mariemaia still in her arms.  
  
"Treize?" Anne called.  
  
Mariemaia's head jerked up at that. Her blue eyes   
gazed at the man who stood, paused now in his walk,   
with his back to him. His hair was more of an auburn,   
while hers was a flaming red, but there was something   
in the set of his shoulders that reminded her of what   
she saw when she glanced into the mirror.  
  
Treize turned, his eyes seeking Anne- and Mariemaia   
gasped, for the eyes were the same, nearly identical   
to her own in fact.  
  
He smiled. "Ah, there you are. The fresh air seems to   
have done you good- And who is this?"  
  
Anne said softly, "Treize. Come here, please."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, but asked no questions, only   
turned the IV stand and made his way to where she   
stood, rather quickly in fact, considering the shape   
he was in.  
  
"Anne?" Treize asked.  
  
Mariemaia was still gazing at him, tears now filling   
her eyes. "I never thought I would see you," she   
whispered.  
  
"Her name is Mariemaia," Anne said. "Mariemaia   
Khushrenada. She's the one we've been searching for-   
your daughter."  
  
*My daughter,* Treize thought in wonder. *At last, my   
daughter. She's beautiful. I had never thought she   
would be so beautiful.*   
  
"Hello," Mariemaia said. "Is it true what she says?   
Have you really been searching for me?"  
  
"Yes," Treize told her. "I never thought I'd see you   
either, your mother and grandfather tried so very   
hard to keep me from you..."  
  
Mariemaia nodded. "Grandfather saw me talking to Lady   
Anne. He was angry." She shivered at the all-too-  
recent memory. "He was going to hurt us."  
  
Treize's eyes narrowed at this. "Mariemaia, Anne...   
are you two alright? If he has harmed you at all-"  
  
Anne was shaking her head. "He very nearly did, but   
my Preventers-" She sighed. "I never should have left   
them. I'm only thankful they found me in time.   
Barton's dead, but a few of his men got away."  
  
"There are more, besides," Mariemaia said. "Lots   
more. They'll be coming after me soon."  
  
"Oh?" asked Treize.  
  
"Yes. They'll still want me to play my part in   
Grandfather's little scheme. But I won't do it, I   
won't."  
  
Anne smiled. She looked so much like Treize then, the   
way her eyes turned to steel and the way her brow   
furrowed, even the way she held herself.  
  
Treize simply looked at her, still quite amazed by   
the very sight of her. "Answer this for me: Do you   
want to go with them?"  
  
She shook her head emphatically. "No! I want to stay   
with you. That is, if you... If you want me."  
  
Treize swiped at his eyes with one bandaged hand.   
"Little one, I have always wanted you."  
  
Mariemaia leapt down from Anne's arms then, quickly   
bridging the gap between herself and her father.   
Treize, steadying himself against the IV stand, knelt   
before her, and Mariemaia put her arms very gently   
around his neck. He was touched by her obvious   
concern for his injuries, and held her tightly as he   
could.   
  
"Hold on, now," Treize told her as he stood.   
"Wouldn't want you to fall."  
  
"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Mariemaia asked.  
  
Treize smiled. "No, you're not."  
  
"Alright." She was silent for a moment. "Do you   
think- when I go to live with you, I could see Lady   
Anne sometimes? She was very kind to me today, her   
people saved my life, and I think that she did, too,   
and I rather like her."  
  
"Do you? Good. Because just this morning, I asked   
Anne to marry me."  
  
"Did she say yes?" the child asked.  
  
"Yes, she did," Treize told her.  
  
"That was very sensible of her," Mariemaia said.  
  
Anne laughed. "She is very definitely her father's   
daughter."  
  
"I would like to be your daughter, too," Mariemaia   
said very softly. "I never really had a mother,   
and..."  
  
"Oh, little one," Anne said. "Was she so cruel to   
you?"  
  
"Yes," the girl said. She burst into tears, sobbing   
against Treize's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said.   
"I'm sorry..."  
  
"No, no," Treize told her as he patted her shoulder.   
"It's alright."  
  
Anne produced a handkerchief, which she passed to   
Mariemaia.  
  
"Thank you," Mariemaia said, and blew her nose.  
  
Sally approached them then, a chart in her hands. She   
leaned up against the wall nearest them. "Good,   
you're back. I've heard there was a bit of trouble in   
the park..."  
  
Mariemaia turned her tear-stained face towards Sally.   
"She knows. We were directly involved with that."  
  
"Which reminds me," said Anne, "Dr. Sally Po, meet   
Mariemaia Khushrenada. I'd rather not discuss the   
situation in great detail here, but suffice it to say   
that the child may be in some danger. I think she   
will stay close to us-" Mariemaia nodded "-but I'd   
appreciate it if you would keep an eye on her, and   
spread the word that she isn't to go anywhere, least   
of all with anyone you don't recognize."  
  
Sally nodded. "Pleasure to meet you, Mariemaia."  
  
"Are you my father's doctor?" she asked.  
  
"Yes, I am," Sally said, seeming hardly taken aback   
by Mariemaia's question. If the girl's last name had   
not told her anything, her resemblance to Treize   
certainly did. And of course, it would not be just   
any child the former commander of OZ would hold in   
his arms.  
  
"Are you taking good care of him?"  
  
Sally smiled. "The best."  
  
"Sally saved my life, you know," Treize told his   
daughter.   
  
"Thank you," said Mariemaia to Sally.  
  
Treize shifted Mariemaia in his arms, and gasped in   
pain.   
  
"I'm sorry," Mariemaia said quickly as Anne moved to   
take her from Treize.  
  
"It's alright," Treize said. "It happens sometimes."  
  
Sally's eyes narrowed. "Alright, I think you've had   
your exercise for the morning. Back to bed with you."  
  
"Doctor-"  
  
"Now," Sally said.  
  
Treize glanced at Anne, but she somehow managed to   
appear very disapproving indeed, even while holding a   
seven year old child in her arms, and the child   
herself looked none too pleased. He sighed.   
  
"Majority rules, it seems. As you wish, ladies."  
  
Anne and Mariemaia nodded to one another; Sally   
nodded her approval, and trailed the trio back   
towards Treize's room, where Anne helped him into   
bed.  
  
"When do you think he will be able to come home?"   
Mariemaia asked Sally.  
  
"I'm not sure yet," Sally told her. "But soon. Within   
the week, is what I told him, and I still think   
that's likely."  
  
Mariemaia nodded. She then turned to Treize, seeming   
suddenly very concerned. "Do you- have room for me,   
where you live?"  
  
Treize burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, my dear- Yes,   
I most certainly do. You'll have your choice of   
rooms, in fact, and if the decor isn't entirely   
appropriate for a little girl, well, we can fix   
that."  
  
Mariemaia smiled. "Alright."  
  
Treize kissed Mariemaia's forehead. "I hope you don't   
mind staying with Anne for a while, though, little   
one."  
  
"No, not at all," Mariemaia said. "We'll be fine,   
won't we, Anne?"  
  
"Yes," Anne said, as she took Mariemaia's hand and   
led her from the room. Sally followed.  
  
"You certainly know how to liven things up around   
here," Sally said teasingly to Anne.  
  
"Yes, and just think- if you hadn't called me, I   
wouldn't be here."  
  
"I *had* to call you," Sally replied. "I wanted to do   
it sooner, but..."  
  
"Treize has explained his reasons to me," Anne said,   
with a glance at Mariemaia which said clearly that   
she did not wish to speak farther of this in front of   
the girl. Certainly Mariemaia was above average for a   
child of her age; that much Anne could see clearly   
even having only known her a short time. But even so   
there were things which she hardly thought the girl   
ready for.  
  
Aside from which was the fact that Mariemaia had   
already seen and heard far more than anyone her age   
should have to, and she did not need to know how   
close to death her father had come, let alone that   
Anne and many others had thought him dead. In Anne's   
mind, the less was said about that, the better.  
  
Taking Mariemaia by the hand, Anne led her to the   
sixth floor visitor's lounge. She was surprised to   
note that neither of the Preventers was anywhere in   
sight, and after a moment's thought, decided they   
were most likely availing themselves of the room's   
coffee maker.  
  
"I'm afraid this is home for now," Anne said   
apologetically. "It really isn't much, but..."  
  
Mariemaia shrugged. "I'm sure it's fine. Where are   
your Preventers?"  
  
"I don't know," said Anne, carefully pushing the door   
open. "Stay back."  
  
She stepped cautiously into the room, and found   
herself looking down the barrel of a gun.  
  
"Bang," said Lucrezia Noin. "You're dead." She turned   
to Milliardo Peacecraft, standing beside her, and   
said as she holstered the gun, "I told you she could   
use our help."  
  
Anne sighed. "Where are my Preventers?"  
  
"Right here, Lady," Milliardo said with a bow. "Wind   
and Fire, at your service."  
  
"I sent you to Victoria."  
  
"We finished there," Noin explained. "And rumor has   
it you've had some trouble here."  
  
"I've never cared for rumors," Anne said with a small   
sigh.  
  
"Neither have I," Milliardo told her. "But   
occasionally there's some truth to them."  
  
"And there was truth to the rumors that brought us   
here, wasn't there?" Noin asked.  
  
"You might say that," Anne said.   
  
"Now, Lady," Noin said, "tell us what you did wrong."  
  
Anne sighed again. "I walked straight into the room,   
despite the fact that in the absence of the   
Preventers, something could have been very wrong.   
And- I'm sure you'll both be quite pleased to hear   
this -I'm unarmed."  
  
The pair exchanged looks, and Noin shook her head.   
"Lady, that was none too bright."  
  
"Thank you," Anne said. "I believe I did do one thing   
right, though. Mariemaia?" she called out. "It's   
alright. Come here, please."  
  
Mariemaia obediently appeared in the doorway.   
"Hello," she said.  
  
"Hi," Noin said, smiling at her. "She's lovely, Lady.   
Yours?"  
  
Anne smiled. "Not quite. This is Mariemaia   
Khushrenada, Treize's daughter."  
  
Noin's jaw dropped. "What?"  
  
"So you found her at last," Milliardo said. "Treize   
would have been...pleased, I think."  
  
"He is," Anne told him. "Believe me, he is."  
  
Milliardo looked at her in shock. "You can't possibly   
mean what I think you mean." *I thought she seemed   
different, somehow, but I never would have guessed   
she would end up like this...*  
  
"Sit down," Anne told the pair, motioning them to one   
of the cots, and Mariemaia to the other. "A lot has   
happened..."  
  
* * *  
  
After Lady Une- Lady Anne, he reminded himself -  
finished telling her story, which took some time,   
Milliardo left Noin with Anne and Mariemaia, and   
walked towards room 613.  
  
He knocked upon the door, and waited until he heard   
Treize's voice call out, "Come in." Then he took a   
deep breath, pushed the door open, and stepped   
through.  
  
"Hello, old friend," Milliardo said. "Mind if I come   
in?"  
  
Treize shook his head slowly. "Milliardo! No, of   
course not. Here." He gestured towards the chair at   
his bedside. "Sit down, please. What on Earth are you   
doing here?"  
  
"Visiting my sister," Milliardo said, quite   
seriously. "No, actually, the Preventers' grapevine   
is only second to that of OZ and, that being the   
case, Lucrezia and I heard there might be some   
trouble in Cinq. We came as soon as we could."  
  
Treize nodded. "You've spoken with Anne?"  
  
"Yes, and also met Mariemaia. Charming girl."  
  
"Isn't she?" Treize asked. "And, I take it, you and   
Ms. Noin were surprised to hear I was alive?"  
  
"Frankly, for a minute or so I thought Une- Anne,   
that is -had really lost it. But both your daughter   
and Sally Po said you were here, and I am glad that   
you are."  
  
"Admit it, you missed me," Treize said teasingly.  
  
"I did *not*."  
  
"Of course you did," Treize told him. "You wouldn't   
know what to do without me."  
  
Milliardo shook his head. "Such ego, old friend."  
  
"Ah, but I'm entitled. Here I sit, wrapped in yards   
of gauze and bandages, endlessly suffering. And, of   
course, having a bright and beautiful woman by my   
side throughout..."  
  
Milliardo laughed. "No one who knows us will ever in   
a million years believe that you were the prankster   
when we were children, but anyone who sees that   
devilish gleam in your eye would believe that now."  
  
"But I am a handsome devil, you must admit."  
  
"You, Treize, are going to be fine in no time at all,   
with *that* sense of humor," Milliardo said, clapping   
him on the shoulder. "I'll let you rest now. I only   
wanted to stop in and say hello."  
  
"Thanks," Treize said. He paused. "Milliardo?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Guard them well for me, you and Noin."  
  
"We will."  
  
"And, Milliardo? Anne has her pride, you know that-   
I've known her without it, and I wouldn't have it   
taken from her for all the world. You shouldn't let   
what you're doing be too obvious, or she'll object.   
She has Mariemaia to think of, but even so..."  
  
Milliardo nodded. "I don't know that I can deal with   
Anne as well as you, but that's why I brought Noin."  
  
"Who, of course, would say that she *insisted* on   
coming, and there wasn't a damn thing you could do to   
stop her."  
  
"And if she does say that, I won't argue with her,"   
Milliardo said.  
  
"That's wise of you, Milliardo."  
  
* * *  
  
"-And we happened to stop by the castle to see Relena   
yesterday," Noin was explaining to Anne as they   
walked into the lobby. "Seeing as how we're so close,   
and all. And Milliardo just *happened* to mention   
that we could maybe use a little backup..."  
  
Anne sighed. "Noin-"  
  
"So," Noin went on, "You'll have a half-dozen Cinq   
protectors here within the hour. Oh, and Relena says   
there's absolutely no reason for you to camp out here   
until Treize is released. You're more than welcome to   
stay with her, both you and Mariemaia."  
  
"Thank Relena for me, please, and tell her I'll   
consider it."  
  
"Anne."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I spoke to Treize about this, and he said we were to   
drag you there if you wouldn't go willingly."  
  
"He said that? Well. We'll see-"  
  
"Momma!" a voice exclaimed, an instant or so before   
the red-haired mass of energy that was Mariemaia   
threw herself into Anne's arms. Anne caught her, and   
spun her 'round the room with a smile.  
  
"Miss me, little one?" Anne asked softly, her voice   
catching in her throat. *Momma. She called me   
'Momma'. It's only been a week since she asked me   
about the roses in the park, and now, already, this.   
It's like a dream, to be a mother to Treize's   
daughter. And if she isn't mine biologically, no one   
would ever know it.*  
  
"Yes," Mariemaia said. "Are you keeping her out of   
trouble, Miss Noin?"  
  
Noin laughed. "I'm trying, Mariemaia."  
  
Mariemaia nodded. "Good."  
  
Anne smiled, hugged the girl, and set her down.   
"Let's go upstairs, shall we?"  
  
"Yes!" Mariemaia exclaimed. "We have a surprise for   
you, Momma."  
  
"A surprise?" Anne asked.  
  
"Yes," Mariemaia said. "But you have to come upstairs   
to see."  
  
"Alright," Anne said. She took Mariemaia's hand, and   
led the way towards the elevator, with Noin following   
a step behind.  
  
When they left the elevator upon the sixth floor,   
Mariemaia pulled away from Anne and skipped off down   
the hall. Anne dashed after her.  
  
"Mariemaia!" she called. They'd neither seen nor   
heard anything from Barton's army, but were all still   
quite wary of that. Anne and the others tended to be   
a bit more protective of Mariemaia than might have   
been strictly necessary- but none of them wanted to   
take chances with the life of the little girl they   
had only so recently met.  
  
"It's okay," Mariemaia called over her shoulder. She   
slowed, and walked up to Milliardo, who was standing   
guard outside the visitors' lounge. She gave him a   
crisp salute, which he returned with a smile.   
Mariemaia pulled open the door, and gestured Anne and   
Noin to precede her inside.  
  
Anne smiled at the girl's enthusiasm, and her   
strange, child-like seriousness. Then she stepped   
through the door.   
  
She gasped, and Noin was beside her in an instant,   
her gun drawn. "What-?" She cut herself off as Anne   
stepped forward, as she quickened her pace, until she   
was running towards the man who stood across the   
room, leaning against the wall beside the window. His   
hospital gown and robe were gone, and in their place   
he wore simple, if well-tailored, civilian clothes.   
To Anne, the sight of him was wonderful.  
  
"Treize," Anne said as she went to him. "Your   
bandages-"  
  
"Gone." He smiled. "We took them off while you were   
out. Sally pulled the IV."  
  
"Well, go *on*," Mariemaia said, giving Anne a gentle   
push forward.  
  
She kissed his cheek. Behind her, Mariemaia pouted.  
  
Treize shook his head. "That will never do," he said,   
before wrapping his arms 'round Anne. She returned   
the embrace gently, wanting to be careful not to hurt   
him. "It's alright," he told her quietly. "I'm much   
better now."  
  
"Are you?" Anne asked with a smile.  
  
Noin turned to Milliardo. "What do you say we wait   
outside, huh?"  
  
Milliardo nodded. "Good idea. Mariemaia, you coming?"  
  
"No," said Mariemaia, who was standing beside the   
sink. "I'm getting a glass of water. Would anyone   
else like one?"  
  
Several "No, thank you"s answered her, and Noin and   
Milliardo departed the room, closing the door behind   
them.  
  
"I'm getting out of here today," Treize said. He'd   
gone from leaning up against the wall to sitting upon   
the couch, his arms still around Anne.  
  
"What wonderful news," she said, and meant it.  
  
"Yes." Treize drew her closer. "Have I mentioned how   
glad I am you're here?"  
  
"Once or twice, I think."  
  
He took her face between his hands, the right still   
in its cast, but the other bare now save for a small   
patch of gauze. Anne reached up to place her own   
hands over his, fingers tracing the new scarring of   
his burns, and she trembled.  
  
"If you ever," she whispered, "do something so   
foolish, so stupid, so reckless again, I will kill   
you myself, I swear it!" Her final words, while   
neither harsh nor loud, struck him as a slap would   
have, and a tear sprang to his eye. She kissed it   
away, then drew back, still holding his hands upon   
her face. "Understand?" she whispered.  
  
"Yes." He kissed her then, gently, deeply. "Anne..."  
  
"Father!"  
  
Mariemaia's shout startled them both, and their heads   
snapped up as one. The girl, a look of pure terror   
upon her face, ran to them, clutching Anne's shoulder   
with a trembling hand. "Father... Grandfather's men!"  
  
"Where?" Treize asked, his eyes, a moment ago dark   
with passion, searched sharply now, as a bird of prey   
might survey its hunting grounds.  
  
Before Mariemaia could answer, the first hail of   
bullets shattered through the glass of the window.   
Anne fumbled for the sidearm she no longer wore, fury   
sparking in her eyes.   
  
Treize folded his body over his fiancée and daughter,   
holding them down, one arm clutching Mariemaia, the   
other Anne. And, being himself unarmed- *Stupid,   
that,* he thought, *and I won't make that mistake   
again* -he did the only thing he *could* do, which   
was to call for help. "Preventers! Quickly!"  
  
By the time he had shouted the first words, Lucrezia   
Noin and Milliardo Peacecraft had already burst   
through the door, guns drawn.  
  
Mariemaia's quiet sobbing could be heard faintly, as   
could Anne's attempts to hush her. But neither   
Preventer spared them a glance.  
  
"Stay down!" Noin advised, sighting through what   
little remained of the window. She fired off three   
shots in rapid succession, then waved Milliardo out   
the door. "Go! They're on the roof of the next   
building. Call the Cinq."  
  
"Are you sure-?" Milliardo began.  
  
"I can handle this. Go, now."  
  
Milliardo went. Noin took several more shots, then   
ducked beside the counter to reload. In the interim,   
those who had survived Noin's last volley returned   
fire. Treize cried out softly, and Noin glanced   
towards him quickly, dismayed to see blood spreading   
across his shirt, near the right shoulder.  
  
The door opened slowly, and Jennifer, the volunteer,   
stuck her head in. "What's going on? I heard noise-"  
  
"Get DOWN!" Noin snapped. "Stupid girl," she muttered   
to herself, raising the gun again. "Get down and   
*stay* down."  
  
Jennifer dove for the carpet, but immediately raised   
her head. "Oh my God- Mr. Khushrenada, are you   
alright? I'd better get the doctor..."  
  
Treize didn't bother to answer her, instead glancing   
over at Noin. "I'm alright. How're you doing?"  
  
"Never been better, thanks," Noin replied. "I think I   
got them all-" In the distance there was the sound of   
more gunfire. Noin sighed. "Or not."  
  
They all heard the shout, then: "Freeze! Cinq   
Protectors!" Noin peered out the window, cautiously,   
and saw the surviving shooters dropping their weapons   
and raising their arms in surrender. Standing amidst   
the Protectors, mopping sweat from his brow, was   
Milliardo.  
  
"Yes!" Noin exclaimed. She glanced at her watch. "He   
could've run a little faster, though..."  
  
Treize shook his head as he sat up, reaching out his   
good hand first to help Anne, then again to help   
Mariemaia. "Personally... I think he did well   
enough."  
  
Noin nodded, holstering her pistol, as she approached   
Jennifer. "Hey. You alright, Jennifer? Jennifer."  
  
"She seems to have fainted," Mariemaia said.  
  
"Well, then," said Noin. "*I'll* get the doctor."  
  
"Alright," Treize said. Then: "Wait. Lucrezia...   
Thank you."  
  
Noin inclined her head slightly to indicate she had   
heard, and stepped out into the hall.  
  
Treize sat back and drew a deep breath. "Is everyone   
okay?"  
  
"I think so," Mariemaia said. "Father- they shot   
you."  
  
"Yes, but it's not bad. Anne?"  
  
She shuddered. "I'm okay. I just- never realized how   
horrible it could be to have people shooting at you.   
At you, and at your family."  
  
The three were huddled close together when Noin   
returned with Sally Po, and Mariemaia seemed   
reluctant to let go.  
  
Sally shook her head and sighed. "Where were you   
hit?"  
  
"Shoulder," Treize said, turning to show her.  
  
"Alright. It's back to the room for you, I'm afraid.   
It's not too far in, and I think I ought to pull it.   
It *could* work its way out on its own, but it'll   
hurt more if it does."  
  
"Pull it, then. Please."  
  
Sally nodded, stepping over Jennifer to help Treize   
and the others stand. She looked back over her   
shoulder at the volunteer. "Is she alright?"  
  
"Fainted," Mariemaia explained for the second time.  
  
"I'm not surprised," Sally replied. "Alright- let's   
go."  
  
* * *  
  
Mariemaia dropped herself into the chair in Treize's   
room, while Sally and Anne sat her father upon the   
bed. Sally went to fetch her instruments, shooing   
Noin out as she did so. She tried to gather Mariemaia   
with her eyes and expel her from the room as well,   
but Mariemaia was having none of it, and she simply   
ignored the doctor until she was gone.  
  
Anne, meanwhile, was helping Treize out of his shirt.   
"It doesn't look too bad," she said.  
  
"It's not, really," he replied. "Just bad enough to   
keep me here a bit longer than I'd have liked."  
  
Mariemaia sighed.  
  
"So," said Treize as he leaned back against the   
pillows, waiting for Sally's return, "were those the   
gentlemen you two made the acquaintance of in the   
park?"  
  
Anne nodded. "Yes. Well, I met them there, at least.   
Mariemaia had already had the dubious honor."  
  
"I see. Mariemaia, how many of them are there? Just a   
rough estimate will do for now."  
  
Mariemaia appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not   
sure. A few hundred, at least."  
  
"Hmm. And we've accounted for maybe a dozen." He   
turned his gaze to Anne. "Lady, I would like you to   
take Mariemaia and go to see Relena. I'd like the two   
of you to stay with her until this is over."  
  
Anne nodded. "Under the circumstances, I don't think   
I have much room to argue. But what about you?"  
  
Treize smiled. "How quickly we forget, Lady. My   
safety is no longer your responsibility."  
  
"Yes, it is," Anne said. "It is no longer my *duty*,   
but I still consider it my responsibility."  
  
Treize nodded. "Granted. But I would like you to take   
both of the Preventers with you when you go."  
  
Anne shook her head. "Absolutely not. Mariemaia and I   
will have a castle full of Cinq Protectors with us;   
you will have only Sally and hospital security, which   
is, I'm sorry to say, worse than useless. I will take   
*one* of the Preventers, and you have my word that I   
will keep that one with me at all times. The other,   
however, stays with you."  
  
Mariemaia was nodding. "That sounds more than fair to   
me. Which of them is he more likely to listen to?"  
  
"Milliardo," Anne said at once.  
  
Treize sighed. "So be it, then. But you, Anne, and   
Mariemaia will go with Noin to Relena, and *stay   
there*."  
  
Anne nodded, saluting sharply. "Sir."  
  
Sally returned then, with Noin and Milliardo trailing   
behind, looking cross. She turned around to glare at   
the two Preventers, neither of whom seemed to be   
paying the slightest bit of attention to her.  
  
"They refuse to wait in the hall," Sally explained,   
"and so they'd best keep out of my way." She opened a   
small case and withdrew a few instruments. "On second   
thought- Noin, hold this."  
  
Treize watched Sally work for a few moments, then   
turned his attention to the Preventers. "Lucrezia,   
Milliardo. As soon as Sally finishes up here, Anne   
and Mariemaia are going to see Relena."  
  
"And stay there, I hope?" Sally asked.  
  
"So Anne has promised me, yes."  
  
Sally nodded. "Good."  
  
"Lucrezia, you'll be going with them," Treize went   
on, "and Milliardo will stay with me."  
  
* * *  
  
Relena Peacecraft paced her way along a balcony, her   
eyes constantly scanning the mountain road which was   
the only possible means of approaching the castle   
where she herself had lived as a child, though she   
had little if any memory of it.  
  
"Do you think they'll come?" asked the voice of   
Dorothy Catalonia from somewhere behind her.  
  
Relena turned to face her. "I think they'd better.   
They obviously aren't safe where they are."  
  
Dorothy nodded. "I don't know if you heard or not-   
there was another 'incident' earlier this morning."  
  
"Oh no," Relena said. "Is everyone okay?"  
  
"As far as I know," Dorothy replied. She sighed. "Do   
you think Lady Une will listen to Noin, and come   
here?"  
  
Relena shrugged. "Who can say? Your cousin's death   
has hit her very hard."  
  
"I know. I think if anything she was probably closer   
to him than I was." Dorothy shook her head, sending   
her long blonde hair swinging over her back and   
shoulders. "I should probably talk to her, if she'll   
let me, but..."  
  
Relena nodded. "It's almost like you knew and cared   
for two different people, isn't it?"  
  
The other young woman nodded. "Yeah."  
  
They watched in silence as the car pulled to a stop   
at the front gates and three figures, two of them   
women slightly older than Dorothy and Relena, and the   
third very young, stepped through the gates.  
  
"Oh," said Relena. "Good, they're here. Let's go,   
Dorothy."  
  
Dorothy nodded, and they made their way quickly   
through the halls towards the castle's main entrance,   
where they met Noin, Lady Une, and a very pretty   
little girl neither of them recognized.  
  
Relena smiled softly at her guests. "Hello, everyone.   
I'm glad you could make it." She stepped forward and   
took Une's hands. "Lady Une, words cannot express my   
sorrow at your loss."  
  
Une simply smiled, bemused, and turned to regard   
Relena's companion. "Dorothy!" She gave Relena's   
shoulder a quick pat, then turned to embrace Treize's   
cousin.  
  
"Lady, my condolences," murmured Dorothy.  
  
Une laughed, a rich, joyous sound. "Oh, Dorothy..."   
She smiled and shook her head. "I think we had best   
go inside. I've got news, and you'll want to hear it   
sitting down. Come, Mariemaia."  
  
Dorothy and Relena exchanged looks of concern before   
following Une and the little girl, and Relena glanced   
questioningly at Noin.  
  
"What's going on?" Relena asked her softly. "And   
where's my brother?"  
  
"There was something we needed him to take care of,"   
Noin said at last. "As for the rest- you'll have to   
hear it from Lady Anne."  
  
"Lady Anne?" Relena asked.  
  
Noin gestured to Une.   
  
"Oh." Relena paused. "I would dearly love for someone   
to explain what's going on here..."  
  
"Anne will do it," Noin told her, "as soon as we get   
inside. She's right about your needing to hear this   
sitting down."  
  
"Alright," Relena said.  
  
Noin seemed to sense her impatience to hear Une's-   
Anne's- news, for she added, "I'll tell you this,   
though. No matter how it may seem, she isn't crazy."  
  
Relena's expression seemed to indicate that she had   
her doubts about that, but if that was the case, she   
kept those doubts to herself as she followed her   
guests inside.  
  
* * *  
  
"Oh," Dorothy gasped. Then she turned the full force   
of her glare upon Anne. "I'm quite surprised that   
you, of all people, would play such a cruel trick,   
Lady. I know that you loved my cousin, and I can't   
believe he'd think well of you for this."  
  
Anne shook her head. "Dorothy, I can assure you-"  
  
"My father's not dead," Mariemaia interrupted.   
"Everyone seems to think he is, but he was just hurt   
badly, not killed. He sent us here; I don't think   
she'd have agreed to come otherwise." The child   
gestured to Anne.  
  
"Noin?" asked Dorothy.  
  
Noin nodded slightly. "About a month ago now, Sally   
Po and I were working with the medical teams   
searching for survivors in the battle we all believed   
that Treize died in. We found him, fairly bad off,   
but still breathing, in what was left of Tallgeese   
II. We didn't know who he was at first, but he kept   
muttering something that sounded like 'Une', and the   
more I looked at him, the more I thought he could be-   
But of course he couldn't, and we all knew that. So   
Sally ran his retinal prints."  
  
Silence filled the room, a thick, impatient silence,   
waiting for Noin to finish her tale. Although every   
person in the room knew how it was going to end, now.   
May have known it in fact from Lady Anne's first   
words, but had not been able to accept it until now.  
  
"By the time he regained consciousness, I'd already   
left Cinq for Victoria." Noin smiled. "Lady Anne   
ordered me there shortly after the battle. Then she   
sent me my new partner."  
  
Relena laughed softly. "Not Milliardo."  
  
"The very same," said Noin. "Then, Lady Anne here   
decides to go for a walk in the park-"  
  
"After Treize proposed to her, don't leave that part   
out," said Dorothy.  
  
"Right. After that, Anne takes her walk, meets up   
with Mariemaia, and even we heard about it down in   
Victoria when Barton's people attacked them. We, ah,   
very quickly finished our work at Lake Victoria..."  
  
"Yes, and you're going to have to go back and clean   
up your, ah, quickly finished work, unless I miss my   
guess," Mariemaia said.  
  
Dorothy smiled. "Ah, there's no doubt now, is there?   
You are *certainly* Treize's daughter."  
  
"Thank you," said Mariemaia.  
  
"As I was saying," Noin went on. "It seemed like Lady   
Anne could use the two of us to watch her back, so we   
came here to Cinq, and heard more or less what you   
just did."  
  
"Except," Anne said, "there have been a few more   
developments since then."  
  
"Yes," said Mariemaia. "My grandfather's men tried to   
kill us." She placed no special emphasis on the word   
'tried', and yet most of them sensed it anyway.   
"Shortly thereafter, Father convinced us we'd be   
safer here. We left the other Preventer, Relena's   
brother?" At Anne's nod she went on. "We left   
Relena's brother to look after Father, and here we   
are."  
  
"I want to see him," Dorothy said. "It's not that I   
don't believe any of you- of course I do. I just-   
want to see him. Can I?"  
  
"Of course," Anne told her. "You can come with me the   
next time I go to see him."  
  
"Thanks," Dorothy replied. She then gave Anne a   
rather long, searching look. "He'll be alright, won't   
he?" she asked, concern clearly evident in her eyes   
although she tried to hide it.  
  
"Yes," Anne promised her. "He'll be alright, Dorothy.   
He should, in fact, be able to leave the hospital   
fairly soon."  
  
"He was *going* to be able to come home," said   
Mariemaia sullenly. "Till he got shot, anyway."  
  
Dorothy nodded. "Your grandfather's soldiers, little   
sister, have lousy aim."  
  
"Thank God," said Mariemaia.  
  
One of Relena's retainers stepped into the room then,   
a rather serious expression upon his face.  
  
"What is it?" Relena asked.  
  
"Miss Relena, there are some...people at the gate who   
insist that they have urgent business with one of   
your guests."  
  
"Who are they?" Relena asked.  
  
"They're soldiers, miss."  
  
Mariemaia sighed. "They're never going to go away,   
are they?"  
  
"Oh, yes they are," Anne said.  
  
Dorothy reached out to touch her arm. "You stay here.   
We'll take care of this. Come with me, Mariemaia."  
  
"What are you going to do?" the girl asked.  
  
"You'll see." She held out her arms to Mariemaia, and   
she nodded seriously. Dorothy picked her up and   
carried her from the room.  
  
Anne raised an eyebrow at her companions.  
  
"If Dorothy says she can take care of it, she can,"   
Relena said.  
  
Anne was not convinced, however. Treize's cousin   
Dorothy might have been, but when last she had spoken   
to her, Anne and Dorothy had not exactly shared the   
same ideals. "Relena-"  
  
Relena shook her head. "Anne, I wouldn't ask Dorothy   
to speak for Cinq on the topics of war and peace, but   
I can and do trust her to fight for the right things,   
if she must fight at all."  
  
"I'm sorry," Anne said. "Perhaps I shouldn't judge   
her. We've all of us been judged wrongly a time or   
two, haven't we?"  
  
"A few times too often, yes," Relena agreed.  
  
* * *  
  
Dorothy carried Mariemaia towards the gate, her step   
determined.  
  
"Are you sure about this?" Mariemaia asked quietly.   
She was, Dorothy thought, doing her best to present a   
brave front, but quite clearly she was frightened of   
these men and what they might do.  
  
"Absolutely," Dorothy told her. "To be honest with   
you, kid, I've just about had it with other people's   
armies harassing my friends. Not to mention my   
relations. Just follow my lead, alright?"  
  
The girl nodded. They reached the gates then, and the   
Cinq Protectors lined up behind the gates parted   
smoothly to allow Dorothy and Mariemaia to pass.  
  
"Hello," Dorothy called out to the soldiers.  
  
"You will give us the child Mariemaia Barton at   
once," said the soldier in the lead.  
  
"Oh, I don't think so," Dorothy said.  
  
"We have our orders, miss."  
  
"And I have mine. Aside from which, I don't know of   
anyone by that name. My companion here is Mariemaia   
Khushrenada. She is my cousin's daughter, and we are   
looking after him until such time as he's released   
from the hospital."  
  
"Where, might I add," Mariemaia put in, "you put   
him."  
  
"Us, child?" the man asked with rather badly feigned   
innocence.  
  
Mariemaia sighed. "Not you personally, no. But   
despite my youth I'm hardly stupid; I remember you.   
And I was also in the room when your friends decided   
to use my father for target practice."  
  
"Speaking of which," said Dorothy, "might I suggest   
perhaps a bit *more* practice? Your aim is simply   
dreadful."  
  
"Listen, miss-"  
  
"No," Dorothy said sharply. "*You* listen. The old   
man is dead. Mariemaia is with us now, and that's   
where she's going to stay."  
  
"You can't keep her," the soldier said.  
  
"Oh really?" Dorothy asked. "How interesting. I've   
got a small army of Protectors here, not to mention   
eight inches of good solid steel, that says I can.   
That says, in fact, I can do a lot of things."  
  
"But you are pacifists."  
  
Dorothy laughed softly. "No. The Peacecrafts are   
pacifists, and my friends within the Preventers wish   
to see as little blood shed in the near future as is   
possible. I, however, think that there are things   
still worth fighting for, and I will fight for those.   
I will fight for those! So let me give you a word of   
advice- leave now, leave Mariemaia in the hands of   
people who actually give a damn about what happens to   
her, and never show your faces here again. If you do,   
I will personally kill every last one of you."  
  
"You can't possibly-"  
  
"Try me," Dorothy snapped. She met the soldier's eyes   
and proceeded to stare him down, blue eyes hard as   
diamonds and as cold as ice. Some time later, when   
that eye contact was broken, it was the solider who   
looked away.  
  
He snapped out an order to his men, who grumbled   
amongst themselves. The leader repeated the order,   
and then led the march away from the Cinq Castle   
gates.  
  
"Thank you," Mariemaia said.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"Would you really have-?" the girl began.  
  
"Oh yes. I most certainly would have."  
  
Mariemaia nodded. "Somehow I thought so." She paused.   
"Do you think we've really seen the last of them?"  
  
"Somehow I kind of doubt it. I didn't even have to   
hurt anyone, and that's usually a good sign they   
haven't been convinced to see things my way yet.   
But," and here Dorothy smiled, "by the time they get   
up the courage to come back, I'd be willing to bet   
that your father will be home. And I would really   
like to see them try and take you from Treize."  
  
As they headed back inside, they found Anne waiting   
for them upon the walk. Dorothy sighed when she saw   
her. "Lady, I asked you-"  
  
"I know, Dorothy. And you're very good, better than I   
remembered. But I didn't want anything to happen, to   
you or to Mariemaia."  
  
Dorothy nodded. "A little good backup never hurt   
anyone."  
  
Anne smiled. "Indeed. Are they gone, do you think?"  
  
"For now, at least," Mariemaia said. She then shared   
Dorothy's thought about Treize, and Anne threw back   
her head and laughed before gathering the two of them   
into her arms and hugging them.  
  
"Oh, my dears, I think that one way or another, our   
troubles with the Barton armies are over."  
  
* * *  
  
Approximately six months later...  
  
Anne Khushrenada stood upon the grounds of the   
estate, watching as her husband chased their   
daughter, Mariemaia, across the great expanse of   
lawn, both of them laughing and clearly enjoying the   
game.  
  
"Tag!" Treize announced gleefully as he at last   
caught up with the girl and tapped her lightly on the   
head. "You're it." He then collapsed into the grass   
with feigned exhaustion. He was in fact hardly even   
winded, but wanted the opportunity to watch his   
daughter, still amazed by the very sight of her even   
after all this time. So he lay there on the grass and   
watched as Mariemaia ran to Anne, who held out her   
arms to the child.  
  
"Momma!" she exclaimed. From his place in the grass,   
Treize saw Anne smile. She still seemed to find sight   
and sound of Mariemaia as amazing as Treize himself   
did, and Anne's own wonder at this was ever a sight   
to behold.  
  
Treize raised a hand and waved it at his wife and   
daughter. "Help an old man up?" he asked.  
  
Anne laughed. "Old? Not a chance." She set Mariemaia   
down, and the two of them approached Treize. Anne   
held out a hand, but Mariemaia was faster, reaching   
out to tap her father on the shoulder.  
  
"Tag," the little girl said with a mischievous grin.  
  
Treize sighed mock-tragically. "You're going to run   
me into the ground yet, Mariemaia."  
  
"Didn't I just?" she asked.  
  
Treize laughed and shook his head. "Yes. You did." He   
reached out a hand to Anne, and, as she started to   
help him to his feet, drew her, instead, into the   
grass beside him.  
  
Mariemaia watched them for a moment, but looked up at   
the sound of a car door slamming. "They're here,   
they're here!" she exclaimed.  
  
Anne smiled. "Go on. We'll be along soon."  
  
Mariemaia dashed off to greet her parents' guests,   
including 'Uncle' Milliardo and 'Auntie' Lucrezia.   
Treize and Anne, meanwhile, remained where they were.  
  
"Tag," Treize said quietly.  
  
"How is-?" Anne started to ask.  
  
"My leg is fine, my arm is fine, my shoulder is fine.   
My hands are fine, as is everything else."  
  
She laughed softly. "Alright. I suppose Sally was   
right- you *have* made a more or less full recovery."  
  
"More or less," he agreed. "I still have occasion to   
regret eating so much hospital food, though."  
  
"Which, I think, only goes to show that you've   
recovered mentally as well."  
  
"I think I have that, as much as I ever will."  
  
Anne nodded slowly. "Have you given any more thought   
to the Preventers?"  
  
"Yes. And I'm afraid the answer's still no. I admire   
you, Anne, you and your organization both. Those are   
lofty goals you have set- and I'd like to believe   
that you can reach them. But I... I'm tired. I have   
more than earned my peace."  
  
"Yes," she agreed, "you have. And it suits you. I   
wasn't sure it would, but it does."  
  
"Which may be thanks to you and Mariemaia."  
  
"In part, I think." She smiled. "What do you say we   
go and greet our guests?"  
  
"I say, let's give them a few more moments to spoil   
her ridiculously before we make our appearance and   
they have to stop. Besides, it is lovely here, and I   
thought I'd take a moment or two to enjoy the   
view..."  
  
"Treize," Anne said, a blush creeping across her   
cheeks. "Really..."  
  
"I still fail to understand why comments like that   
embarrass you, my dear."  
  
Anne shook her head. "Men," was all she said.  
  
He laughed. "You do look lovely, my dear."  
  
"I have grass in my hair," she protested. "And-"  
  
"Enough," Treize said, drawing her into his arms and   
brushing her lips lightly with his. They remained   
still, each savoring that moment for a time before   
they drew away from each other. Treize offered his   
hand to Anne; she took it, and they stood together.  
  
"My lady." Treize bowed over her hand and kissed it   
gently. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing.  
  
"Certainly," was Anne's reply.  



End file.
